


A Good Omega

by delicaterosebud



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alpha Jesse McCree, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Plug, Angst, Collars, Domestic Fluff, Humiliation, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Omega Hanzo Shimada, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Slow Burn, Spanking, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 86,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicaterosebud/pseuds/delicaterosebud
Summary: Hanzo Shimada, the heir of one of Japan’s most powerful crime syndicates, has presented as an omega – the lowest of the three secondary sexes, whose members are widely considered to be little more than objects, the property of their alpha superiors.Overnight, he loses everything: his honor, his title, and his family.As the years slowly pass, with control of his life, slipping between his fingers, Hanzo has no choice but to either succumb to his sorrow or to redefine his concept of happiness.





	1. Dragons

At the center of every omega’s life was _Alpha_.

The loving mate, the lord and protector… and every omega, a loyal attendant. Happy to serve. Eager to please.

…Honored to die at their alpha’s command.

Before the alpha’s code of “Chivalry” and the widespread concept of omegan helplessness had popped into existence, mighty kings and fearsome generals had once led armies comprised entirely of omegan forces. Each and every one, a mate. Dozens of them. _Hundreds_. Fighting pointless battles for an alpha who couldn’t be bothered to return even a sliver of their devotion.

Blinded by adoration, they raged onwards with unmatched ferocity, peerless courage, unwavering dedication - 

Though they had walked through the valley of the shadow of death, they could fear no evil. They fought and they died with smiles on their faces. 

Would he become like that, when he was mated? Would some hidden switch be flipped within him? …Could he ever love somebody so intensely that he could forget even the degradation and the crushing shame that he endured at that very moment? 

“Enough.” 

With a pleased nod, Hanzo’s teacher, his _master_ , tugged the leash back, pulling him off of the training phallus mounted to the wall. In between desperate gulps of air, he retched, his hair, soaked through with blood and sweat, falling to cover his face like an iron curtain. “Compose yourself. ...Vomit, and you will lick it up. Do you understand?” 

…Of course he understood. He’d already done it twice that day. What was a third time? What did it matter? 

“I said, _do you understand_?!” Shouted his master, slamming the cane across his thighs - though by then, Hanzo was already too numb to feel a single thing. “When you are addressed by an alpha, you answer.”

“Y-Yes… Yes, Alpha.”

“Good. Now… you finally managed to take it into your throat -” the old man commented, stepping closer to gently pat at his ass - “So we can end our lesson for today, Pet.”

…It was a term of endearment, certainly, but it _sickened_ him. Hanzo looked at the cattle prod, sitting by the edge of a bench, and considered dropping it into his bath that evening.

“Now, _present_. You’ve progressed through your training with remarkable speed. As such... we can move on to a larger size tonight –” the old man praised, lubing up a plug, as Hanzo followed his commands with quiet solemnity.

Head down, ass up, just as he was taught.

…There was no point in fighting it. Blood dripped down his thighs, turned to mincemeat under his master’s ministrations. The doctors would heal him shortly, of course; nobody wanted to purchase a scarred omega.

“Take a deep breath,"

the old man warned, "This one is quite a bit longer, as well.”

A quiet whimper escaped his lips as his master forced the toy into him with little regard for his comfort, jamming it further and further - As he was trained, however, instead of pulling away, Hanzo jerked his hips back, feigning eagerness.

A good omega always craved Alpha’s knot - that was what his master had told him, anyway.

“Well done,” the man stated, after Hanzo had clenched down on the toy nestled firmly within him, “The doctors will be in shortly, then I will permit you a short rest before you are to begin preparing supper for Shimada-kumichō and Genji-sama.”

When Hanzo didn’t respond, when he didn’t even move from his position, presenting himself like a bitch in heat on the cold, stone floor, the master knelt gently by his side and smiled down at him with fondness… and just a trace of sympathy.

“I will send a message to Shimada-kumichō, informing him that you served me well, this afternoon. …Perhaps he will allow you to dine with the family tonight, instead of in the servant’s hall. Wouldn’t you like that, Hanzo-chan?”

_He didn’t particularly care for anything, anymore._

“…Yes, Alpha.”

_________________________

His master followed through with his promise, not like Hanzo actually gave a damn. Where he ate, what he ate… it was hardly enjoyable when _he_ was the one cooking the food. 

Preparing it over and over again, with the kitchen’s head servant, barking out orders from behind his shoulder. Tugging on his leash. Forcing him to redo everything until his hands hurt so badly, he could barely grip a knife.

_He considered taking that knife and plunging it straight into his stomach._

_________________________

“Your cooking has improved,” Sojiro announced with pride, even as his voice trembled - _walking on eggshells_ \- so uncertain about speaking to his son, after everything that had changed between them, “This mackerel is _delicious_. It has a mature depth of flavor. Bold and smoky, yet never overpowering the flavor of the meat, itself…”

He hadn’t quite expected his son to beam at the news, but at the very least he’d expected _something_. Though he’d tried his best to make conversation, Hanzo never responded with anything more than two word answers.

_Yes, Alpha._

_No, Alpha._

He’d tried asking more open-ended questions, then. Questions about his training – though only ever regarding the more pleasant aspects of it. 

_That is a lovely kimono. Which part of the pattern is your favorite?_

_I hear that your embroidery is progressing well. What do you most look forward to making?_

_You have quite a few suitors! What kind of alpha suits your tastes? An affectionate one? Or perhaps one that is proud and intelligent? Tell me more, Hanzo-chan… Go on –_

…Mumbled answers. Disinterest. A lifeless lack of passion. 

Hanzo had barely touched his dinner. He’d pretended to eat, of course, but Sojiro knew that he was only transferring food from plate to plate. Hiding bits of it in his covered bowl of miso soup. Peeling the skin from his fish just to pass the time.

On the other side of the table, Genji was so nervous, he was actually sweating… Throughout the entire meal, he hadn’t said a word – though it was clear from the furtive little glances towards Hanzo that he wanted, _desperately_ , to talk to him. Not as an alpha to an omega, but as a brother. As a friend.

He’d forbidden his sons from speaking; they now belonged on different social strata. As an alpha, Genji was allowed a certain degree of authority over his brother. He could command him, issue punishments… but he never did. Not once did he abuse the power that he now held over Hanzo.

Though he would never mention it, Sojiro was relieved that his eldest son still had an ally in their cold, lonely castle. 

“This tofu is impeccable,” he continued, heaping on the praise, just to try and elicit a single one of Hanzo’s rare and subtle smiles. …He was starting to forget what they looked like. “The breading is light and crisp. And the broth – so fragrant!” 

“Here,” he offered, plucking tofu out of his own bowl and adding it to Hanzo’s, “…You’ve worked so hard, my son. You deserve a little extra.”

He jolted back when Hanzo shoved the bowl away with a resounding clatter. 

…It was only at that moment when he realized the boy was trembling. That he was biting into his cheek hard enough to draw blood. It seeped between his teeth, exposed with every harsh, ragged breath.

“Genji," Sojiro interjected, "I am sorry to ask this of you, but could you –”

“I’m already gone,” his youngest replied with a forced laugh, trying his best to lighten the mood - and to spare his brother a punishment for such flagrant disobedience - before setting down his chopsticks and scurrying out of the room as ordered.

…He almost regretted asking him to leave - because after that... it was just him and Hanzo. The omega, staring at him, not with the fury he’d expected, but with tired, dead eyes that turned his blood to ice. It wore away at his resolve.... At that moment, Sojiro wanted nothing more than to end Hanzo’s ridiculous “banishment.” 

Omega or not, he was his _son_.

…But after he passed, what fate would befall such an unfortunate child? With Genji occupied with the clan’s affairs, who would care for Hanzo? 

He needed an alpha.

“My son…” Though he was barely fifty, Sojiro felt so old. He withered under Hanzo’s paralyzing gaze, shifting restlessly as though desperate to make his escape, “I know that fate has been cruel to you... that _I_ have been cruel. I know full well that letting go of your pride, of accepting your role as a companion and servant will be difficult, but I assure you, your sacrifices will be worth the reward. If you work hard and obey your alphas, then... I will be able find you a mate who will treasure you for the rest of your days. …He will look at you and see the sun and stars. Though you have lost your family name, you will gain another – one that means more to you than ‘Shimada’ ever could. A new family. A _better_ family. …One of your own making.”

Sojiro smiled, just at the thought of it: his son, surrounded by joyful, laughing children, tumbling over themselves for the chance to hold him.

“There is no bond in this world stronger than the love between a mother and child. Can you imagine that? Perhaps you will not have strength and authority... but you will have your children’s love. That, Hanzo… is the greatest gift in this world. When your pups and your alpha are ready to defend you, you can hate me, then - all you would like. For the privilege of watching you grow into an omega of honor and integrity… I shall accept your grudge, my son. I will endure your hatred and resentment.” Though he hoped that he wouldn’t have to. He would have liked the opportunity to see his grandchildren - and to see their _mother_ , smirking at him with that sharp, intelligent gaze, just like he used to.

Perhaps they could play shogi in the gardens, again. A mated omega still had the right to spend time with his father, after all - if his alpha would permit it.

“Remember that omegas are forbidden from seeking employment. You must rely upon your alpha; you have no choice. If you wish to avoid a life of shame and poverty, then I must ensure that you are wed to an alpha of high standing. …But I can only pair you with such an alpha if you learn to be a proper omega. Please understand that I am doing this for you, Hanzo.”

“A proper omega… like Okaa-san?”

“Like your mother.” Even after all those years, Sojiro still found comfort at the mere thought of her. So beautiful… and her scent – Like cool, gentle rain on a warm, spring morning. Sakura and petrichor. “She would have been so proud of you, following in her footsteps to become a traditional homemaker. She had always loved you so -”

“On the contrary," Hanzo replied, his bitterness, festering through even his meticulously crafted, neutral tone, "She hated me; she hated _herself_. ...Am I correct?”

“...What?” Sojiro shook his head, hissing a stuttered breath between his teeth. Surely, he must have been dreaming… “Hanzo, what did you say? I fear that I…”

“She hated us. She would have rather died than been a mother to me. In fact… I highly suspect that she took that fate into her own hands. You told me, when I was a boy, that she suffered from a heart attack - a 'sudden and unpredictable illness.' …But that was a lie. Was it not, Otou-sama?”

“No… How did you –”

“I am not as blind as Genji. …She was always distant. She played with me and held me when I wept… but only when I approached her. She never offered.” 

“Hanzo, stop.”

“When she held my hand, she never wove our fingers together like the images of the omegas and their pups in the… _ridiculous home magazines_ that you provide to me as a replacement for my books.” 

“Hanzo!”

“She threw away the picture that I drew for her, when I was a boy! She never loved -”

“That isn’t true! She _loved_ you. She loved this family!”

“…Is that to be my fate? To sire children that I do not want with an alpha so blind that he cannot even begin to understand my grief?” 

“Get out… _Get out_!” 

Sojiro slammed his hands upon the table, ruining the dinner that his son had so painstakingly prepared. A typical omega would have cried out in fear… and perhaps in sorrow, at his wasted efforts. …But Hanzo only blinked back at him in silence before pushing himself to his feet.

Stoic and dignified, he bowed. 

“Yes, Alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thank you for reading this story!
> 
> I intend for it to have four "acts," the first of which will focus on Hanzo's youth, with the subsequent three acts focusing on his relationship with McCree. If you have any questions or feedback, please feel free to comment!
> 
> ________________________
> 
> Edit: It saddens me that this has to be said in the first place, but please keep your comments civil - please do not insult people of different beliefs, religions, political parties, etc. in the comments.
> 
> If this story inspires polite conversation and respectful debate, then that is wonderful - but slander targeted towards anybody will be deleted.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding!


	2. Chapter 2

“Anija!”

With a miserable groan, Hanzo shifted in his futon, pulling the blankets over his head and turning his back to the incessant knocking coming from his window.

“Anija, let me in!”

…His limbs felt like lead; he hadn’t slept all night. 

After his shameful outburst at dinner just three days prior, his teacher had dragged him down to the dojo and beaten him, bruised and bloody, until strips of flesh hung from his back like ribbons. He’d been permitted only minimal healing afterwards – just enough to ensure that the wounds wouldn’t scar. 

The lingering pain was meant to serve as a lesson - a way to instill the traditional omegan virtue of obedience within him. …At the very least, his father had permitted him to sleep in while he still healed – though that permission hardly meant a thing when he was jolted from his rest before sunrise.

“It’s me, Genji!” the voice from the window called, louder than ever. 

Hanzo growled, finally, with far more annoyance than he had intended. “Who else could it possibly be?” 

“Your alpha, come to whisk you away to a land of magic and penises? ‘Hanzo-chan, Hanzo-chan, let down your long hair!’” 

He forced himself out of bed and slid the window open, only to be met by his brother’s smiling face. …He considered shoving Genji from the ledge, sending him tumbling down onto the stone below.

“Hoooo… and here I thought omegas were supposed to be beautiful. You’re a mess! Even your eye bags have bags.”

“…Thanks to you.” 

“Hey, you’ll be glad you let me in,” Genji insisted. Still hanging from the ledge, he maneuvered himself slightly, shoving a plastic bag through the window. “Surprise! I got you breakfast!”

He squinted, staring at the printed mascot: a green little… _alien creature_ , flying with a bowl of steaming ramen. “That bag is… from Rikimaru.”

“Yeah!”

“Ramen. …For breakfast.”

“ _Yeah_! It’s a new special - East meets West, or something. They added scrambled eggs and bacon. Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!”

“Ugh…” Hanzo shoved the bag away, jostling his brother - knowing full well that Genji’s grip was strong enough to keep him safe. “Revolting.”

“You think that’s bad? I had to eat your cooking every day since you presented. No offense, but Otou-sama was lying. You suck.”

“I do not… ‘ _suck_!’” Hanzo argued, defending his pride – even regarding a skill that he hated, “My cooking is on par with the standards of a professional chef! I am a master in the kitchen. A master.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I was joking…” Genji laughed, raising one hand in surrender, “Any alpha would be lucky to have you. Okay? So quit trying to bite my head off. …Look, I’ll admit your food’s pretty good, but I am sick and tired of traditional dishes. I need some variety in my life.”

“Some ‘variety?’ What do you mean by that? Oh, Genji…” Hanzo began, with an exasperated sigh, “That ramen was never meant as a gift for me at all, was it?”

“Yes, it was! …Kind of. Okay - not really. I just kind of wanted an excuse to try it.”

So predictable… Hanzo stared back at him, unblinking and deadpan.

“Look – I am such a good brother that I will still allow you to have one entire strip of bacon. That’s how generous I am. You can even have the biggest one.”

“Truly, this must be my lucky day…” 

Genji swung himself into his room and shut the window, before mixing the broth into the ramen. When he was finished however… he dug his chopsticks into the bowl again and again, as though searching for something –

“So Anija…” he began, nervous laughter already worming its way into his voice, “It… turns out they only give you one strip of bacon to begin with. I know I said it was yours, but… can I have it?”

“Absolutely not. You should have checked prior to promising it to me.” 

“Th-Then I take back _my take back_. You suck! Well, here is your precious pork strip, sir!” he quipped with a playful snort, tossing the bacon Hanzo’s way –

Ridiculous. 

“You have no right to complain. You used the offer of a free meal as a pretense to gain entry into an omega’s bedroom. Have you no shame?” 

“Nope.”

Of course not. Why did he even ask? “Well then, pray tell, what _do_ you want?”

“Okay, you got me. …You know that history assignment I talked to you about?”

…When his father had pulled him out of his lessons, when he had confiscated his books and his weapons, Genji did what he could to replace them. A pocketknife here, a stray arrow there… Even going so far as to make photocopies of his books and homework assignments.

“What about it?” 

“Turns out it’s due today and not tomorrow - so I was hoping I could go over my answers with you before I had to submit it. I mean… you did the assignment, right?”

“…Of course I did. What else am I supposed to do during my ‘imprisonment?’” Hanzo grumbled, motioning to the room, containing nothing more stimulating than embroidery and origami paper.

“I dunno. You could always masturbate.”

“…You disgust me.”

“Disgusting and _proud_!” Genji chimed, opening his book… and smiling like an idiot until Hanzo reached under his dresser to pull out his own, hidden supplies. “Alright, _student council president_! What did you get for the first question?”

“It was… the spread of tuberculosis.”

A long, awkward pause –

“Awesome… I got the same answer. And number two?”

“The discovery of the New World.”

“…………..Great, me too!”

“Genji, I can see you scribbling behind that book. …I know that you are copying my answers.”

“Why, I never! Such a rude accusation from my own brother! My flesh and blood!” He placed his hand against his chest, as though he’d been shot through the heart. “…You’re not wrong though. I’m definitely cheating; I am _really_ that desperate. … _Please help me_.”

Still smiling like a madman, Genji clapped his hands together as if in prayer… 

“Here –” With a sigh of resignation and a comely little smile, Hanzo handed over his papers. “You can have them.”

“S-Seriously?! Thanks, Anija! I take back all of the terrible things that I’ve ever said about you. Your eye bags do not have bags; I’m sure it’s just the light.”

His little brother glanced over the papers with a cheerful smile… that slowly turned melancholy. “Wow, you’re… really good at this, huh? I can’t believe you actually understood this junk. Ha! …And you did the optional assignments, too. I could never do something like this; I’d just get bored halfway through, and… give up.”

Genji’s expression continued to fall further and further, the more he flipped through his papers. 

“…I’m sorry, Anija.”

“For what?”

The younger boy leaned against the wall and tried his best to put on a brave face, though Hanzo knew him well enough to know that he was suffering.

“I… have to tell you something. When all of this crazy ‘omega’ stuff started, I was pissed at Otou-sama and the elders, yeah, but… I was actually a little bit happy that you got pulled out of classes. I was sick of you showing me up all the time. We’d get our test scores back, and you would ace it - while I just always, barely passed. Everyone gave me shit for that - ‘Oh, here comes Hanzo-sama’s annoying little brother.’ I tried to laugh it off, but it hurt a little, you know? Rubbing it in my face that I could never be as smart as you, or as cool, or… whatever. Like I didn’t already know that, even on my best day, I probably couldn’t beat you at your worst. I know it’s dumb, but I was kind of relieved that I wouldn’t have to keep competing with you. …It just sucks that you’re trapped here, learning to _make bento boxes_ or whatever, when you’re so good at running the clan, and I’m just… stuck being _Genji_.”

In a way, Hanzo had always known. Whenever Genji lost a sparring match, he would laugh and shrug his shoulders, nonchalant as ever - but afterwards, when they were putting away their equipment… Hanzo would hear it – that trembling, despondent little sigh.

“So… I’m sorry I felt that way,” Genji continued, “That I didn’t try harder to persuade Otou-sama to keep you in classes with me. But now that you’re gone, and they stuck me in the limelight, I’m… really starting to get the feeling that I’m not cut out for this. Everyone’s expecting me to ‘be the heir’ and just replace you, but I _can’t_. One, it’s fucked up. Two, I have no idea what’s going on. Three, it’s boring, and I hate it. And four… _i-it’s fucked up_!”

“…I am not angry at you, if that is what you fear.”

“I know you’re not! …I know you’re not. But I could probably rob a bank, and you’d be okay with it... You’ve always been looking out for me, so… I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you when you needed it. But I will now. I promise. What Otou-sama is doing to you isn’t right.”

“Few things in this world are just. …But I will be fine.”

“Even after he trades you off for – what, _three goats and a sheaf of wheat_?”

“I beg your pardon? I am worth, at the very least… _four_ goats.”

“Hell, you’re worth five,” Genji teased, his good spirit, finally returning, slowly but surely, “I mean, there’s not an omega in the world that could ever be better than you: you’re smart and loyal… You know what? You’re worth an entire farm! …You’re worth all the money in this stupid castle.” And just like that, his brother had thrown his arms around him, squeezing tight. “You’ll tell me if you don’t like your alpha, right, Anija? ‘Cause if he does anything to you, I’ll kick his ass so hard, he’ll be tasting leather for a week. …I really mean it.”

Despite his pride – and despite the pain – Hanzo returned the gesture, clinging to Genji like a lifeline.


	3. Chapter 3

“You look lovely, Little Doll. …So beautiful, just like your mother.” With his best, reassuring smile, Sojiro adjusted Hanzo’s kimono until every fold, every pattern, was just as perfect as he was. “…Are you ready to meet your suitor?”

“Why ask, when my opinion means so little?” 

...It was true that Hanzo’s feelings wouldn’t have changed the course of his fate - this alpha was already waiting for him - but Sojiro hadn’t expected the boy to dare to draw attention to that fact. Not after all of the punishments that he had endured, just to get this far.

He sighed, disappointed, but took a tentative step back, regardless, giving his son some much needed space. 

He and Hanzo were never particularly close, but their relationship had deteriorated to a point where they felt like strangers. Sojiro would enter a room, and Hanzo would pack up his belongings and leave, just like that. Without a single word. 

He’d sent the boy presents: hairpins and letters, candies and mochi… even a framed photograph of the two of them, playing together in the gardens when he was a pup. It broke his heart every time he found the boxes returned, sitting in front of his bedroom door on the very same day they were delivered. 

Perhaps he should have tried harder to bond with Hanzo when he was younger. …But instead, he’d dedicated most of his time to Genji: coddling him, defending him… calling him his “Little Sparrow.” 

When Sojiro was a pup, he, too, had a younger brother. A little boy with eyes as bright as the sun. …But out of bitterness, that boy had taken up arms against him, fighting over something as meaningless as the right to lead their clan. Cutting down his own flesh and blood… 

He had wanted to spare his sons such a tragedy. He hadn’t wanted his boys to argue.

If Hanzo was destined to inherit everything, then Genji would need somebody to hold his hand - to help him find his place in the world. ...That was how he had chosen to justify it, anyway. Sojiro had never once considered the fact that Hanzo could be an omega. That it would be him who would end up alone and afraid. 

...How could he have known?

The Shimada family had been a pureblooded lineage for hundreds of years. Every member of their bloodline, an _alpha_. He’d raised the boy assuming that nothing would change; he’d raised him to be proud, to be aggressive and infallible – 

...It only made his downfall all the more difficult. 

In a rare display of fatherly affection, Sojiro brushed Hanzo’s bangs away and cupped his cheek in his hand, smiling down at him with all the love in the world.

“You can do this. …You were always so strong. Such a clever boy - quick to adapt. It had always been in your nature to make the best of even a dire situation, just as I know that you will do, now. I understand that you neither need nor desire my support… but know that I love you, Hanzo - and that I will be there, standing by your side as you meet with your suitor. I will watch over you, my beloved son. I will protect you. I swear it.” 

He hadn't known where that little vow had came from, but he knew, somehow, that this was a turning point in his relationship with Hanzo. If he didn't said anything at that moment, he would lose his son for good. …Perhaps he already had, regardless.

“Shimada-kumichō -”

“I will permit you to address me as Otou-sama for today.” ...After all, even strong children needed their fathers, sometimes. As aloof as Hanzo could be at times, surely, he wasn't an exception.

“ _...Shimada-kumichō_ -” Hanzo repeated, his eyes, sharp and cruel, “...Do you love me?”

“Of course I do. To the moon and back.”

“…Then what is my favorite color?”

“Hm? I apologize, my son. I… do not understand.”

“What is my favorite color? When is my birthday? What foods do I like? What is… _What is my greatest fear_?”

“I do not -” 

“If you do not know anything about me, then how can you claim to care for me in the slightest?”

“H-Hanzo…” 

...The boy was right. He could have answered those questions had they been about Genji, but… when it came to his eldest son –

Sojiro didn't know the first thing about him.

“Now, then… are you quite finished? I would like to bid Genji-sama farewell before we depart, if you would permit it.”

“Very well,” Sojiro relented, “…Go ahead.”

…What else could he do? Disgusted by his own pathetic lack of commitment, Sojiro could do nothing but stand and stare, watching, _helpless_ , as his son drifted further and further away from him.

________________________________

“So, you ready for your ‘big day?’” Genji scoffed with a gentle punch to the shoulder.

“It is only a simple meeting. No contracts have been signed, no arrangements have been made…” Despite his festering resentment towards his father, Hanzo hid his anger well - his face, a pleasant, stoic mask, just as always. 

“Sure, but this is the first guy who even made it this far. All of the other alphas who were interested in you couldn’t even get Otou-sama’s attention. Listen… I know it’s weird for me to get all serious, but be careful, Anija; you could end up bound to this guy by the end of the night. …Don’t be afraid to speak up if you don’t like him. I mean that.”

“It is not as simple as you presume.”

“ _Yes it is_!” Genij groaned, growing more and more frustrated by the second, “…To hell with tradition, okay? To hell with the whole ‘omegas are seen but not heard’ thing. That’s bullshit. I mean, who the hell does this guy think he is? Trying to… _buy you_ like a pack of cup noodles? What a creep… Are you seriously just going to sit there while this creep… _creeps all over you_?”

“...I am sure that he will be a perfect gentleman,” Hanzo lied, if only in an attempt to calm his brother, “He is one of the clan’s most prominent suppliers.”

“A supplier? _...What_? Otou-sama is selling you off to some old business guy? He can’t do that! I don’t care if he’s the richest alpha in the world. That’s fucked up!”

“…It is what it is.”

“Oh, Gods. Oh - You’re _seriously_ saying that? If you end up bound to him, that means you have to _fuck him_ , Anija! Ew! I mean, we already know he's old, but what if he’s ugly, too? Do you really want your alpha to be ugly? For your _pups_ to be ugly?”

“An ugly alpha is the least of my concerns.”

“But what if he's half your height and three times the girth? You don’t have to settle for some… crusty old _barnacle_ if you don’t like him, you know? Forget what’s good for the clan. Think about yourself, for once! ...What do _you_ want, Anija?”

What he wanted… In truth, Hanzo had never given it any thought, even when he still had his freedom. Training himself as his father’s successor, blindly obeying every order; he’d just… gone along with it. He had no friends of his own, no passions, no hobbies –

“What I want…” 

A knock on the door broke his concentration.

“Shit. Looks like time’s up,” Genji sighed in bitter defeat. Before Hanzo could leave, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a glimmering, golden scarf. “...Well, I said what I needed to; the rest is up to you, Anija. But before you get going… here - this is for you.”

“Genji, this is… beautiful.”

“Right? I figured you’d like it. …I even used my own money to buy that thing. Not a single yen came from Otou-sama’s pockets, so… you don’t have to feel like you’re accepting anything from him.” 

“Look at the detail... This is real goldwork. How could you afford this without relying on the clan’s resources?”

“I got good at mahjong! ...Okay, and maybe I called in a few favors so some guys would help me cheat. Just... don’t worry about it, okay? Money and honor don’t mean anything to me. _You_ do.”

“…Thank you, Genji.”

“I know, I know. I’m awesome,” he bragged, unable to hide that beaming smile, “You just have to promise me that you’ll use that ribbon to strangle Ye Olde Barnacle if he touches your butt, or tries to sniff your hair, or something.”

“ _Hanzo-chan_!” their father called from behind the door, “It is time to go.”

“See you tonight, Anija.” After one last hug, Genji gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and ushered him towards he exit. “Remember what I told you: don’t be afraid to say no.”

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hanzo only nodded back – knowing full well that when push came to shove, he wouldn't have a sliver of Genji’s bravery. Obediently, he opened the door and followed his father out to the car.

“Higuchi-san works in weapons manufacturing,” his father rambled on as they sped down the country roads, likely in an attempt to break the awkward silence, “He owns seventy-four factories worldwide. The Shimada clan currently has access to three: those limited to central Japan. But if we could fully combine Higuchi-san’s extensive resources and the Shimada-gumi’s connections, we could issue forth an era of prosperity for both of our houses. …I know that he is older than you would like, but he is an established businessman, descended from _samurai_. His family is wealthier and more prestigious than even the Shimada clan. You will be marrying _up_ , my son.” 

Sojiro smiled, placing his hand on Hanzo’s knee, squeezing gently.

“He has a summer home in Versailles and a ship docked in Venice. You will be able to travel around the world. That will be quite the adventure, hm?” From the corner of his eye, he could see Hanzo’s hands, balled up into little fists - his knuckles turning white… “You will forget all about Hanamura.” 

Forget the pain and the sorrow - and the family he would leave behind. Hanzo would finally be able to move on with his life. 

At the very least… that was Sojiro’s greatest hope. 

___________________________________

They arrived to a parade of music and color: an outdoor orchestra, glittering confetti. …And the _flowers_. Dozens of vibrant arrangements, all the scents and sounds...

Higuchi's garden was _beautiful._

For just a moment, Hanzo had actually been excited. He glanced at his father, subconsciously seeking permission, when one of the servants had handed him a real, French macaron.

“Go on, Hanzo-chan. Eat it! Tell me how it is.”

He turned the little cookie in his hand. It was so delicate… as though it could crumble apart if he so much as pinched it between his fingertips. It was so lovely, so meticulously crafted, that he was almost reluctant to take a bite. But when he did… the texture was so heavenly that he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Soft and chewy, with a dollop of smooth, sweet cream, right in the center – a burst of rosy essence that gave way to tart raspberry and a spritz of fresh lychee. 

At that moment, he was able to forget about _everything_. About the alpha waiting for him further in the garden, about the collar around his neck and the leash in his father’s hand – and about the plug, nestled in his ass.

It was just him and that _fucking_ cookie –

“It is… _perfect_.”

“Good!” Overjoyed and half laughing, Sojiro slapped his hand over his mouth, hiding his ridiculous smile… He hadn’t meant to be so loud, truly, but if Hanzo was happy, then he was happy. “…Good. Higuchi-san told me that he purchased these during his last trip to Versailles. Perhaps when you go with him, you will have the chance to try them fresh from the bakery.”

Hanzo had been so distracted by everything – the color and the music, the lingering taste of fruit – that hadn’t even realized that his father was slowly leading him further and further towards the alpha. 

“Shimada-san!” A man greeted with cheer, rushing out to meet them from the nearby gazebo. “...And this lovely little pet must be your Hanzo-chan.”

When Higuchi stepped out from the shadows… Hanzo’s blood ran cold. The man was older, alright. …Older than even his father. 

He wanted to go home. He wanted to run away. _He wanted Genji -_

“Do not just stand there, Hanzo –” his father hissed, surreptitiously jabbing him in the side.

Remembering his lessons, Hanzo bowed low – a proper omega, addressing his superior.

“What a good boy…” the old teased with a thinly veiled, lecherous smile, “Please, by all means, join me.”

…Soon enough, they had arranged themselves under the gazebo: his father and Higuchi, sitting on the sofas - while Hanzo knelt on a little, embroidered cushion by the old man's side.

Like a _dog_. 

His father was laughing. They were discussing… his ‘bride price,’ most likely. Hanzo wasn’t certain; he drifted in and out as time went on. Hearing nothing. Seeing nothing - until his father repeated back a series of acquisitions that he would gain from his son's sacrifice.

Exclusive trade contracts, increased security around their facilities, deeds to silver and platinum mines overseas... the list went on and on.

Genji’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. _Three goats and a sheaf of wheat._

“...Shimada-san is demanding quite a steep price for you, Hanzo-chan,” Higuchi teased, stroking his hand through his hair and snapping him back into reality, “And yet, I am told that before your presentation, you were raised as the heir to his empire. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Alpha.” 

“…But I do have little use for an heir – for an omega who thinks himself an _alpha_. So tell me… have you already learned to swallow your pride, Little Doll?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Hanzo answered, quiet yet clear, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Hm… You’ve trained him well, Shimada-san.”

“Of course. Hanzo-chan shares in the Shimada bloodline. An omega of such distinguished pedigree must carry himself with grace and quiet submission. The ideal flower of Japanese omegahood. He will make an excellent addition to your family, if you choose to accept him.”

Higuchi only smiled, before grabbing at his leash and tugging hard, with excessive force, hard enough to bruise. Staring down at him with a cruel, callous expression, he forced the omega between his legs – 

…Unbelievable. This wasn't happening. _This wasn't happening_ -

As Hanzo knelt there, frozen in horror, staring down at the bulge quickly rising in the old man’s trousers, a sharp wave of nausea overtook him. His vision blurred, he couldn’t stop trembling.

And then those three horrible words were ringing in his ears –

“If so... then the omega would gladly _suck my cock._ ”

To his horror, despite the fact that he wanted to _scream_ \- his inner voice, shouting at him to fight, to flee, to do _anything_ but sit there, waiting for this man to fuck his mouth - Hanzo had already replied with a quiet, “Yes, Alpha.” 

Robotically, he leaned in closer and closer, mouth open, ready to blindly accept whatever the old man had to give him – until the sound of his father’s fist slamming down upon the table put a stop to it all.

“Higuchi! We agreed that you were not to touch him!”

“…Calm yourself, Shimada-sama. I merely wished to see if the boy is as obedient as you say he is. Any omega of mine must know that his place is beneath me. Worry not - he passed. I will sign the contract.” 

His father had promised to protect him, and yet, with just that flimsy reassurance, Sojiro sat back down onto the sofa, silent. 

“Congratulations, Hanzo-chan. …You get to be my bride.” Higuchi reached for a macaron on the side table and pressed it to Hanzo’s lips.

“Go on. Have a treat, Pet. You’ve earned it.”

As Hanzo bit down into the cookie, disgustingly saccharine, he considered taking Genji’s scarf and hanging himself from the rafters.


	4. Chapter 4

“Otou-sama, what is the meaning of this?!”

Genji had to hear it from a junior maid, and only after hours of pestering her, that Hanzo had been promised to an alpha over three times his age. His brother hadn’t said a word regarding the matter. Upon his return from Higuchi’s estate, he’d shut himself away in his bedroom, drowning out the rest of the world.

Genji had knocked on his door, banged on his window, called for him, _begged_ – 

But his brother refused all visitors. He’d turned away even food and water, until their father had threatened to strap him to the bed and _force him_. 

“Calm yourself, Little Sparrow…” Sojiro tried to reason, as his son barged into his office.

“No! I am sick of sitting by and doing nothing, _saying_ nothing, while you barter away Hanzo’s life like cattle! How can you do this? …Don’t you feel anything for him?”

“Hanzo agreed to this, himself,” Sojiro explained in strictly schooled, calm monotone, “He understands the benefit that this contract will bring to the clan.”

“To hell with the clan! You went into this _knowing_ that he wouldn’t refuse, didn’t you?” Genji accused, storming behind his desk and shoving his chair against the wall, “I mean, when has he ever gone against anything you’ve said?! He’d let you take his eyes and bind his feet if you insisted on it; you know he’s not capable of thinking for himself! Please, you have to do something! You have to stop this!”

“Genji… If you had paid more attention to your studies, you would know that the clan has been in decline for over three generations, now. We need new contracts. We need to expand. …I am sorry that I must take advantage of Hanzo’s malleability in order to do so, but this is not the time to put the individual above the many.”

“This ‘individual’ you’re talking about is your son!” Genji shouted, tearing his throat raw.

“Hanzo is my son no longer. He forfeited all ties to the Shimada name the moment he presented as an omega.”

Shaking, the boy clenched his fists, digging cruel, red crescents into the palms of his hands. Disgraceful tears of anger rolled down his cheeks, unbefitting for a man of the esteemed Shimada clan.

“You _asshole_! Well, fine. If you won’t help Hanzo, then _I_ will. I’ll think of something! And when I do… you won’t hear from either of us ever again!”

“…And when you are older, Little Sparrow, when you are the one supporting the weight of this clan upon your shoulders, then you will understand that for the sake of honor, I do what I must. That _Hanzo_ , ever the dutiful son, does what _he_ must. …Nothing in this world comes without sacrifice.”

“Yeah? Well, since when were sacrifices supposed to come from the people at the _bottom_ of the ladder? …You claim that I have no honor, but it is _you_ who has forgotten what honor means. It has nothing to do with preserving the pride of this clan. Honor, Otou-sama, comes from protecting those who cannot protect themselves - from speaking up for those who have no voice!”

“Genji…”

“Go to hell… I hope you go to hell!”

______________________________________

He’d refused the invitation to dinner that night. How could he even stand to look upon his father’s face when he had lost all respect for the man? 

In the middle of the night, with the entire castle, fast asleep, Genji crept down to the kitchen to prepare a quick meal of his own. It was when he passed through the garden that he saw it - a spirit, perhaps, or maybe just a figment of his imagination. A figure sitting beneath the old cherry tree. Its long, black hair draped over a funeral kimono, pure white and haunting. 

It stopped him in his tracks; stole his breath away. And yet… it enchanted him all the same, silently calling, beckoning – _come to me_.

Despite his fears, he stepped into the garden, drawing closer… only to be met by a single man, kneeling on the soft grass - a tanto and cloth, laid before him. It was… Hanzo, his eyes, red and swollen. He’d been weeping… 

“Anija… What are you doing here?”

A pointless question, when both of them already knew the answer. An ornate, ceremonial tanto, stolen from his father’s meeting room, and a white kimono… an honorable death. The way of the samurai. Genji bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from screaming - 

“Genji.” His brother’s voice trembled… Such a tender, desperate little sound. “…Do you love me?” 

“Of course I do,” he answered, with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, “You’re my big brother. You’re my best friend. My… My _hero_ , you know? …I still remember how you used to beat up the bullies when they picked on me in the park – and how you’d let me sneak my vegetables onto your plate when I didn’t want to eat them. I remember everything, you know? I never forgot. Never.”

“…Then, what is my favorite color?”

It was a test of some sort - meant to be poetic or… whatever. He couldn’t always read Hanzo’s thought process, but he knew him well enough to understand his intentions, more or less.

“You don’t have one. I remember you told me, once, when we were little, that you thought that things like ‘favorite colors’ were for kids. …But don’t you think _we’re_ still kids, Anija? I mean, maybe not legally, but I don’t think you and I are exactly grown up, either. …It’s wrong for Otou-sama and everyone else to just heap all this responsibility onto us. I don’t think we’re ready for this. …Do you?”

“I thought that I was,” Hanzo answered, his voice, trembling, “I thought that I was stronger than this, but… I am afraid to bind myself to him -”

“You don’t have to. For the last time: forget the clan. There are shelters for omegas just like you. You can pack your stuff, and I can sneak you out of the castle. We can –”

“…And _then_ what, Genji? I would spend the rest of my life in hiding. Always running. Running from the dishonor that I have brought upon the Shimada clan. Running from Higuchi-sama. …I cannot endure this.” 

“Then just… just give me a little more time, okay? I’ll think of something better.”

“Genji, stop this,” he pleaded, sounding more exhausted than anything else.

“No, I’ll figure something out. I promise. …And if I can’t, if you really have to go into hiding, then… I’ll go with you. Okay? You and me against the world, just like always – right, Anija?”

As though taken back by his sincerity, Hanzo clutched his little tanto closer to his heart. “…You do not have to do that.”

“I _want_ to,” Genji insisted with a growing smile, “I’m your little brother. Nobody loves you more than me.”

Somehow, beneath the fear and the misery… he saw it: the smile he loved – subtle and dignified, just like its owner. 

“C’mon - let’s get you out of that thing, okay?” Genji pushed himself to his feet and gestured at that ghastly, white kimono, “I really thought you were a ghost for a second there.”

Smiling, he offered his hand. …When Hanzo took it, it was almost as though he could come up for air after ages, rolling beneath the waves. He took a deep breath, releasing all of the pent up tension in his muscles.

“Then why did you follow?” Hanzo asked. 

“You know me: no self-preservation instinct,” he teased, as he slowly led his brother back into the castle. 

“Hey,” he interrupted, breaking the silence when they arrived at his doorway, “I’m just… gonna sleep in your room tonight. Okay? I’ll sneak out the window before Otou-sama comes in the morning. It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, but –” 

“I understand. …And I must apologize.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t have to apologize for a single thing. I’m just glad you’re safe. …If anything happened to you, I really don’t know what I’d do.”

“…I know. I would have been abandoning you.”

“Stop that. Stop worrying about me, and about the clan, and… Just think about yourself. …Have you thought about what you want?”

“Perhaps. …A little.”

“Ooh?” If only to lighten the mood, Genji wiggled his eyebrows and quickly ushered his brother into his room - “Then tell me… what kind of alpha does my dear brother like?”

“I do not desire an alpha of my own. Genji…” Hanzo chuckled, with intolerable melancholy, “I want to _be_ an alpha. I would like to see my title returned to me. I want to lead this clan. …I want to have a life worth living.”

“Anija…”

He was going to tell him that secondary sex didn’t matter. That he would always be his brother, but… he heard the rush of footsteps outside the door. Frantic, panicked voices –

“Hanzo-chan!” one of the maids shouted, slamming open the door. Though she took a step from the shock of seeing both brothers together… she didn’t mention a thing. The situation, whatever it was, must have been so dire that social norms had ceased to matter –

“What’s going on?” Genji asked, clinging onto Hanzo’s arm, as if the omega could shield him from the bad news.

“Its… It’s your father, Genji-sama. He’s collapsed!”

“Otou-sama?” …And the last thing that he’d told him, before storming off, was that he hated him. He was angry, of course, he was frustrated… but he hadn’t meant it. He glanced at Hanzo, looking for direction -

“Go, Genji,” his brother ordered, “He will be waiting for you, if he wakes.”

“Let’s go together,” Genji offered, instead, “I’m sure he’d want to see the both of us.”

Strangely enough, Hanzo hesitated, tightening his grip around his tanto before dropping it to the floor and following after him. “…Very well.”

As his brother walked beside him, still dressed in his funeral kimono, Genji could almost feel the resentment emanating off of him in waves. It was clear in the tightness of his jaw, his sharp gaze, his twitching, restless sword hand… 

Without a moment’s hesitation, regardless of who saw them, Genji reached for his brother’s hand and wove their fingers together.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Genji stepped through the threshold of his father’s master bedroom, the servants had already returned Sojiro to bed, allowing him to rest quietly on his futon. Quietly… though perhaps not comfortably. The old man tossed and he turned… Sweat dotted his brow; little breaths escaped in trembling, aching gasps. 

His doctors mumbled in the hallway, whispering medical terms that Genji didn’t understand. Something about a physician’s duty to do no harm. Something about rushing him to the hospital, despite the fact that Sojiro had insisted upon dying at home. Another argued about a ‘patient’s autonomy’ – and that they were not to go against their master’s will. 

Swallowing hard around the growing lump in his throat, Genji knelt by his father’s bedside and tucked the blankets around him.

“…I told you a million times, Otou-sama. You really shouldn’t have eaten all that tempura,” the boy joked, more for himself, than anyone else. …He was going to lose his father, tonight. That fact was still sinking in. _He really was going to lose his father_ \- and right after he’d almost lost his brother, as well. Was this a sign of misfortunate to come? Was he destined to watch the people he loved self-destruct, one after the other? 

“Genji… is that you, Little Sparrow?” Sojiro blinked himself awake, before weakly reaching for his son’s hand.

“Yeah, I’m here. …Not like I can do anything, though,” Genji sighed with mounting frustration, “Why didn’t you call an ambulance? Otou-sama, what’s wrong with you?”

“I will not survive this. …The dragons have already told me as much. They can sense… the weakness in my spirit - the ache in my bones.” 

“The _dragons_?” Genji scoffed. As much as he had felt their power first-hand, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of ‘magic.’ “That’s bullsh –”

“It is not. …I will die tonight,” his father continued, effectively silencing him, “The only question… is whether I leave this world from a hospital bed… or if I do so from the comfort of my own home, surrounded by… my _sons_. Both of them.”

His father craned his neck, looking out towards the door. “…Where is your brother? I-I told the servants, when they came for me to… bring him here. …Where is Hanzo? Before I pass, I would… I want to see my son.”

Genji gave his father’s hand a reassuring squeeze, before glancing over his shoulder. …It was only then that he realized Hanzo hadn’t followed him into the room. Frantic, he darted his eyes across the hallway, searching for a flash of pure white.

…It wasn’t difficult to find. From the corner of his eye, he saw his brother leaning against the far wall, his face turned, staring out into the open garden. He wasn’t certain if Hanzo’s expression was pensive, or merely callous. 

Regardless, the doctors slowly made their move, approaching him, _whispering_ to him…

Genji could just barely make out the words.

_“Hanzo-chan. …We do not predict that Shimada-kumichō will live through the night. If you wish to say anything, then… I recommend that you do so sooner rather than later.”_

_“…I have nothing left to say to him,”_ his brother answered, his voice, unnaturally calm -

One of the nurses gasped, taken aback by Hanzo’s cruelty. _“This is your father –”_

 _“You forget that I have forfeited all ties to the Shimada name,”_ his brother scolded, though he never once raised his voice, _“…I am no longer his son.”_

“Anija,” Genji called for him again and again, his voice, growing louder as Hanzo continued to _ignore him_ \- as his father’s hand grew colder in his grasp... “Anija! Otou-sama wants to see you. …He just wants to say goodbye.” 

“…Peace, Sparrow,” Sojiro insisted, releasing Genji’s hand as he slowly leaned his weary body back against the pillows. “Let him go. …I have brought this fate upon myself.”

“I don’t understand; what do you mean?”

His father closed his eyes, as a weak, solemn smile spread across his features. “…I see. If this is to be your vengeance, Hanzo… then so be it.”

“No… No, don’t cry –” Genji took off his glove and wiped away his father’s tears. It was strange, in a way – to see this towering, infallible man crumble before him. “Otou-sama. …Otou-sama?”

…He wasn’t breathing.

Frantically, he shook his father’s body, as though he could somehow will the life back into it. The doctors rushed to Sojiro’s side, shouting for Genji to stay back while they brought out their machines and needles, putting on a show - knowing that it wouldn’t do them any good. 

Dazed, with his vision blurring and a sharp ringing, echoing between his ears, Genji stepped out of the room and searched for his brother. He couldn’t breathe – he needed someone to hug him, to hold his hand and anchor him back down to earth… 

…But his brother had abandoned both him and their father ages ago.

Time passed by in a blur, after that – the days, becoming weeks, becoming months. An endless cycle of darkness and light, grief and numbness…

And the _isolation_ – 

Their father’s death should have brought them closer together, but instead, Hanzo seemed colder, now – even to Genji. He kept his distance, focusing on his training, of all things. 

He’d spent more and more time in the basement, ignoring Genji’s letters, refusing his requests to visit -

He knew that he was smothering him, but Genji needed comfort too - like it hadn’t broken his heart to plan their father’s funeral, knowing that he wouldn’t get any help from his brother. Hanzo didn’t have the strength to support him or to reminisce about even the best of days, now. …But Genji remembered: just the three of them, walking through Hanamura as the sakura petals rained down around them.

…Hanzo never smiled like that anymore. 

On the day that Genji sat before the elders to assume his father’s mantle, he’d worn an ornate kimono, passed down through the Shimada clan from generation to generation. After leaving the ceremony, he’d run through the castle, looking for his brother, just to show him his clothes… only to see him climb out of the basement. Blood trailed down his thighs in thick rivulets, barely covered by his ragged yukata, torn to shreds. When their eyes met… Hanzo’s misery struck him like an arrow. Genji shrunk beneath the weight of his bitterness, rendering him frozen - unable to move, unable to speak, as his brother shoved past him, staining his ceremonial robes a bright and startling crimson.

He wondered if this is how helpless his father must have felt, knowing that, even as kumichō, he lacked the power to save his son.

With nobody left to support him, Genji did what he always did – running off into the town, dancing the nights away with nameless faces, drinking until he’d forgotten the crushing burden placed upon his shoulders. 

…His brother’s wedding was quickly approaching. Though he’d tried his best to revoke the engagement, the elders had vetoed him within seconds. No need for deliberation. 

No room for pity –

All that they’d said, after he’d ranted and raved about their selfishness and depravity, was that they would discuss the matter with Hanzo, himself. 

___________________________________

He’d received the summons on a warm, summer morning - after he’d replaced his plug and wrapped himself up in his little floral yukata, delicate and traditionally omegan. 

The plug vibrated at random – a little feature, controlled by a remote held in his master’s hand, likely halfway across the castle. By now, he was already stretched enough to accommodate an alpha’s knot. Tight enough to tear and bleed, just as alphas always liked to see, but loose enough to limit the pain to a minimum. 

He’d already learned to cum without a single touch to his cock. 

_‘And you truly will need to cum,’_ his master had said. _‘It would be an insult to your alpha’s pride if he failed to satisfy his own omega.’_

As though he could control whether his alpha was a decent fuck. Old Higuchi would probably jackrabbit into him for a minute or two at max, before collapsing, exhausted – if he didn’t have a heart attack, right there on the spot.

…That was Genji’s theory, anyway.

But so was the idea that Higuchi had a one inch cock, and that he was secretly two midgets in a kimono, or that he was an alien, just like the Rikimaru mascot – only with a bowl of screaming omegas instead of ramen. …He’d found a rather elaborate drawing, as well a five-page story, in the back of one of Genji’s notebooks.

He sighed, looking over at his dresser and all of the school supplies that Genji had lent him. He hadn’t been kind to his brother, as of late. Hanzo knew that, and yet…

Every time he pictured Genji wearing those ceremonial robes, a fierce-burning jealousy raged within him. How was it that his brother, who had thought that Bangkok was the capital of China, had been deemed a better leader than Hanzo, himself? 

Did his biology make him unfit to lead? His heats were crippling, certainly, but… other than two days of weakness every month, he didn’t feel any different than he did, five years ago. 

The sound of paper scraping against his tatami mats drew his attention towards the door. As he pulled the little envelope closer, he traced his fingers along the wax seal of the Shimada-gumi. 

It was written by his great-uncle – the head of the Shimada clan’s group of elders. Ever the dutiful child, even after losing his name and his honor, Hanzo tied back his hair and slipped out of his bedroom to answer the summons.

___________________________________

A proper omega, in and of itself, was a paradox: a fairytale creature made real. A being of immaculate purity - and yet possessed by an inherent wickedness. 

Dignity and debauchery. The whore and the virgin. 

An omega was to carry himself with grace, even while slick dripped down between his thighs, even as he trembled, desperate, _always_ , for his alpha’s knot. 

…It was only knowing this that Hanzo was able to walk his head held high, despite the incessant buzzing of the toy nestled within him. With horror pressing in the back of his mind, screaming to be let out, he realized that he wanted _more_.

He was tired of silicon and glass - he wanted a _real_ cock. …He wanted _Alpha_.

He shook his head, calming himself and gathering his bearings before sliding open to the door to the meeting room.

“…Welcome, Hanzo-chan,” his great-uncle greeted, with a thin, joyless smile, “I know that you are busy with your wedding preparations; thank you for answering my summons in spite of that fact. Please, sit. Have some tea.”

 _His_ summons. 

The use of that phrase was precisely what was wrong with the situation. Hanzo had expected it to be the two of them, and yet, when he stared into the room, twelve pairs of unblinking eyes glared straight back at him.

Scurrying about, a young maidservant poured a cup of tea and presented a little plate of snacks by his seat at the table. …Something wasn’t right. Ever since he’d presented as an omega, nobody waited on him - not when he was the one being trained to wait on others. 

“…What is this?” he asked, taking a step back -

“Hanzo-chan. No… Hanzo-sama. Please sit.”

That honorific… the swell of pride in his chest – 

He hadn’t felt it in ages. Drawn in by the carrot instead of the stick, he did as asked without complaint, sitting in seiza - perfect posture. The sound of his plug, vibrating madly, echoed through the empty room. 

…And just like that, his pride became tainted with _unspeakable_ shame. 

_He looked down at the cast iron kettle and wondered if he had the strength to bludgeon himself to death._

“Pardon, but… are you listening?”

“Y-Yes, Alpha,” he replied, shaking himself out of that dangerous train of thought.

“Here, you may speak freely. You may address us as equals… but what we discuss, now, is not to leave the privacy of this room. Do you understand… Hanzo-sama?” 

“Yes, Alpha. …Yes.” 

“We summoned you here today to ask you this: are you satisfied with the course your life has taken?”

What kind of question was that? Of course he wasn’t – “I know where my loyalties lie. I do what I must.”

It must have been the right answer. His uncle’s smile widened, shrewd eyes narrowing. “Then you understand that every victory stems from sacrifice.” 

“…Did you bring me here because Genji asked you to cancel my engagement? If so, then… that will not be necessary.”

“He _did_ make such a request, though we put an end to that frivolous endeavor before he could spit upon the honor of this clan any further. …Pray tell, what do you think of Shimada-kumichō – of _Genji’s_ leadership?”

“I do not know,” Hanzo lied, “As an omega, I pay no attention to the clan’s affairs. I merely… obey the orders that I am given.”

“Nonsense,” his aunt retorted, “You are a prudent young man. Observant. …Surely, you must know that your father’s ‘Little Sparrow’ has not spent a single night in this castle since his ascendance ceremony. …He sneaks into the town, debasing himself with… prostitutes and gamblers!”

“And that is why we, the elders of the Shimada-gumi, choose to place our hopes and our trust in _you_.” His great-uncle gave him a joyless, reassuring smile… “Your brother lacks your sense of duty. He lacks wisdom and patience. From the way he is leading this clan… it has become apparent to us that Genji has no sense of honor -”

“Silence!” Hanzo stood suddenly, refusing to hear another word against his brother – “How dare you slander his name? Shimada-kumichō is –”

“He has no right to that name. The title of kumichō of the Shimada clan belongs rightfully to you… Hanzo-sama.”

…It must have been another joke at his expense. 

_His teacher dangled a little strawberry just inches away from his face. …He was so tired, so hungry, but when he opened his mouth, letting his teacher handfeed him, just like he’d been trained, the man pulled his hand back, further and further, making him reach for it like a well-trained pet –_

Hanzo wondered when this little hope, too, would be viciously torn away from him. “An omega cannot hold a position of authority. An omega cannot handle money. …An omega cannot read and write, or wear underwear that serves as more than just a… a bit of _lace_ , or –” 

“We have decided to make an exception. …This clan is dying, Hanzo-sama. …Genji was caught, yesterday, in a… rather compromising position. He had allowed himself to be penetrated by… a beta. A young girl, with a -” the old man hissed, taking a deep breath in… and letting it out - “…Well. Such details are not for a young omega’s ears. Regardless… know that the girl was the daughter of one of our most prominent rivals. …Genji has brought _unspeakable_ dishonor upon the Shimada-gumi.”

“Who will ever want to do business with such a shameful leader?” another great-uncle chimed, “We have already lost our contract with Nakamura Real Estate. Genji does not present himself as a businessman. …He does not present himself as a _man_ at all.”

“We need a new leader,” his great-aunt agreed, “…We need you, Hanzo-sama.”

“…But what about Genji?”

“His crimes against this clan cannot be forgiven. This is a moment of crisis, in which all of us much act as one, if we hope to survive. This is a turning point in the history of the Shimada-gumi. In our infinite generosity, _Shimada Hanzo_ , we will return your name and your rightful title, we will allow an omega to lead us as kumichō… if you are the one to end your brother’s life.”

“No! No, this is insanity! I will not –”

“Then will you marry Higuchi-san, knowing that your efforts are futile? …Knowing that the clan will die regardless of your sacrifice? The spirit dragons walk with you, Shimada-sama… as they do with your brother. The only one who may slay him and restore honor and balance to this clan… is _you_.”

“I… I will not –”

“You have ten days to make your decision.” _Ten days before his wedding_. “We do not ask you to act immediately; your way is not the path of the fool… but of the patient tactician. Think on it. Take your time. …And do let us know when the deed is done.”

The elders, all of them… _bowed_ to him, pressing their foreheads to the ground, as he stood there, petrified. Drenched in cold sweat, he raced out of the room to warn his brother, to put an end to the elders’ treachery – 

…But then he saw it.

The flower arrangements for his wedding. His dowry, being removed from the Shimada clan’s treasury. He felt the increasing vibrations of the plug in his ass, the _shame_ of the cage, locked around his cock, preventing him of reaching any satisfaction on his own, without bowing before his teacher, without licking his boots and _begging_ –

_Living like this for the rest of his life…_

He glanced at his brother’s door - the door to the master bedroom, _which should have been his_ … and with shame, and sadness, and jealousy in his heart, Hanzo turned and walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

He stood in the center of the family dojo, staring up at the kakemono hanging from the wall, with his family name in swirling calligraphy, emblazoned across the paper. His sword, which had once felt as natural as an extension of his own body, now pinned him in place – crushing him beneath the weight of his own burdens.

From somewhere far behind him, Genji’s whistling, cheerful and casual as always, echoed through the walls, growing louder as he made his approach. A part of Hanzo wanted nothing more than to shout at him - _‘Turn back!’_ …But with his plug and cage removed, with freedom mere moments away, walking closer, _blindly_ , towards him, Hanzo held his tongue - and forced himself to steel his heart.

Before that day, he had considered snapping Genji’s neck from the shadows, or simply piercing his heart while he slept. Something quick and painless.

…But where was the honor in subterfuge? 

Genji deserved a chance to defend himself – and to understand, before he joined their father, that Hanzo truly was the _wretch_ that everyone had made him out to be.

“Anija?” whispered a startled voice from behind him. …Genji sounded so innocent, despite the fact that he was likely worldlier than anybody in the castle, “Anija! You got your clothes back! Did you cancel your engagement to the Crusty Barnacle?!” 

He could hear the boy jogging up to meet up. With a cheerful laugh, Genji clung to his sleeve and spun him around. 

“You did, didn’t you?!”

“No. …Not yet. The status of my engagement is yet to be determined.”

“Then… what’re you doing here?” Genji asked, his cheer, quickly dying as he looked down, taking note of Hanzo’s sword, cleaned and sharpened. “And how’d you get your sword back? …Anija, what’s going on?”

“…You should have left me to die.”

The boy actually pulled back, caught off guard by such a piercing statement. “A-Are you talking about the night when you went outside with Otou-sama’s tanto?”

“That moment, yes… and the ones before it. When you fished me out of the river, after I dived in like a fool and sprained my ankle on the rocks. Or when I took that medication and swelled up like a balloon… and you called the doctors.” 

“That’s crazy talk. That’s… Do you want me to call someone? What do you need me to do? How can I help?”

“You can no longer help me. I do not believe that anybody can. …For I do not wish to ‘die,’ specifically, as much as I desire, more than anything else… to have never existed at all.”

“Anija…”

“I had created this… perception of who I was – and what I was to become. But one day, I opened my eyes, and I was no longer human.”

“That’s not true. It doesn’t matter what other people say.”

“It does. …Because five years ago, I, too, thought of omegas as nothing more than animals. Slaves and pets for us to use as we please. You thought so as well, did you not?”

“…Yeah, I did,” Genji admitted, after a long moment of careful consideration, “But I was wrong.”

“You were _right_. I hated omegas. I still do. I… I hate _myself_ –”

“Well, I don’t hate you.”

“…You will.” 

With his head held high, Hanzo drew his sword with a magnificent flourish – remarkably skilled, despite his recent lack of training. 

“Shimada Genji, fourteenth kumichō of the Shimada-gumi, I challenge your right to the leadership of this clan. …Draw your sword.”

His brother’s expression shifted from shock, confusion, _anger_ , and… betrayal. For a moment, he only stared down the length of Hanzo’s sword, as though waiting for him to pull it back and tease him for his gullibility.

“What are you doing?”

“I will restore my birthright. You are unworthy to lay claim over this clan.”

“…Do you really hate me that much, Anija?”

“No,” he answered honestly – though his resolve never wavered, “You are… the sole source of light that I have left in this world. You are my hope and my happiness. …But I cannot live like this any longer.”

“You don’t have to. I know that I told you to give me more time to think of a better plan, but… I don’t mind running away with you now if you want to.”

“…You do not understand. It is not enough for me to be free. Hope and happiness will not sustain me without pride and ambition. I deserve to lead this clan.”

“That’s not possible. Even if you cut me down, you’ll never –” 

“…The elders have already approved of it. I have read through their paperwork; the contract is foolproof. Upon your death… I will see my honor returned to me.”

“You never _lost_ your honor, Anija. …C’mon. Put your weapon down.”

“Draw your sword.”

“Let’s just talk about this.”

“ _Draw your sword_!”

“No! …Okay? Just… no.” Shaking his head, Genji tossed Ryūichi moji onto the tatami mats. Hanzo recognized that expression: disgust, disappointment, and _pity_. “Do what you want. …But I will not fight my brother.”

“Genji…”

“I know that you’re sad and afraid. I know that you feel like you’re all alone - and maybe, in a way, you _are_. As much as I want to, as an alpha, I can’t really understand what you’re going through – but you know I’d do anything for you. Anything. …I’m your little brother. Nobody loves you more than I do.”

“I know. …And it breaks my heart to do this.”

As he sprinted forwards, Genji stood still, waiting for him to stop, to change his mind… until the very last moment, when his righteousness morphed into fear. 

“Anija, no!” He tried to run… but Hanzo’s sword carved through his shoulder like a knife through butter.

Genji collapsed against the wall, _wailing_ , gripping onto his arm as it hung from nothing more than tendon and tearing muscle – the limb, cleaved straight to the bone. “Gods! F-Fuck!” 

Hanzo buried his hands in his hair and wept, typically and helplessly omegan - the sound of his sobs, drowned out by his brother’s desperate screams.

“Stop running…” His arms were shaking; he could barely lift his sword. The moment they made eye contact, Genji pushed himself to his feet and fled. “ _Stop running_!”

…His brother was always so innocent, so unfit to lead a clan of his own. He never planned ahead; always rushing blindly into dead ends and traps. He’d cornered himself into the old servant’s quarters. No windows, and no way out. 

It was only a matter of time. 

Hanzo threw open the doors one by one, checking each and every room, overturning every laundry hamper and abandoned pile of rags… until he passed by a shoji-screen closet with blood pooling from the gap in the door.

“…Genji,” he called, his voice, soft and gentle – an omega’s crooning tones, meant to calm and to comfort, “If you come out, then… then I will give you a clean and painless death. …Please. Do not make this any more difficult than it has to be. I do not want to –”

“ _Go to hell_!” his brother screamed, draining the color from his face, “Why should I give a _shit_ about what you want?! I would’ve done _anything_ for you! You’re… Why the hell does everyone betray me?!” 

Hanzo only stared at the door, paralyzed, unable to think, unable to breathe…

“Otou-sama left me with this fucking mess! Okaa-san fucking _offed herself_ –” _Since when had he known_? “And now you’re… You too… Y-You were all I had left! Anija, how could you –”

“ _Enough_!” Screaming his throat hoarse, Hanzo pierced his sword blindly through the screen, again and again, feeling the scrape of bone against metal, hearing his brother’s screams devolve into quiet sobs… and into helpless gurgles as he choked on his own blood.

He didn’t know what he’d expected. Throwing open the door, Hanzo could barely recognize the weakly gasping body, crumpled onto the floor, disemboweled and blind in one eye.

Lost in misery and desperation, he slammed his sword down against his brother’s body, carving into the flesh until he no longer had the strength to stand.


	7. A Family Man

Though they’d worked together for years, now, McCree knew surprisingly little of Genji’s past - and even less of the mysterious “brother” who’d haunted his nightmares. Such sensitive information was reserved for Zenyatta alone – and perhaps for Angela, as well, now that the two of them had grown so close.

…McCree knew that they were fucking. 

The good doctor tried to keep it hidden, to keep up professional appearances in the workplace, but he could sense the warmth and sincerity of her devotion. The gentle touches, the subtle smiles… Genji was her little creation, after all: hers to adore and hers to cherish, whether their biology allowed for it or not.

To all but an omega, an alpha’s sperm was sterile - though it didn’t stop incompatible couples from growing more common, as of late. It was a new age: the rise of the beta – a world where alphas and omegas were a dying breed. Despite the fact that alphas were physically stronger - and oftentimes smarter - than the arguably inferior secondary genders, their genetic superiority was offset by the fact that they could mate only with the weakest sex of them all.

From the dawn of civilization, no human population had ever had a higher mortality rate than omegas. 

Domestic violence, honor killings, suicides – they died by the thousands. And now, they made up only two, perhaps three percent of the world’s population.

With fewer and fewer omegas surviving into adulthood every year, the alphas had no one left to carry their children. It was made worse by the “Omega’s Rights Groups” springing up like weeds, teaching omegas to think like alphas, making them unsatisfied with the state of their lives. Jesse agreed that there was progress to be made - but not like that. Not in a way that made modern omegas think that they were too good for mates and motherhood. 

It was a shame. A damn shame. 

Like it wasn’t difficult enough to find an omega - now, it had to be a “proper” one.

…Hell, the situation had gotten so bad that even Jesse was getting desperate. He was already thirty-seven, and he’d never so much as held somebody’s hand. At times, the loneliness was almost unbearable… but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t about to settle for a beta, like Genji had. He wasn’t about to fight over one, like Pharah. It was the instinctive goal of every alpha, ingrained into them since birth, to find an omega of their very own. And so, with nothing more than hope to sustain him, McCree would wait.

It was the right decision.

He just knew, somehow, that in ten, perhaps twenty years, Genji would look at Angela and regret his choice to give up the search for his missing piece. No matter how happy they appeared at the best of times, alphas were meant to mate with omegas – and _only_ omegas.

He was certain of that… but when Angela put her hand on Genji’s shoulder, McCree felt a sickening nausea in the pit of his stomach - something akin to _jealousy_.

“Genji, you don’t have to do this,” she insisted, “I know that you are eager to show how much you have grown under Zenyatta’s tutelage, but… you do not have to forgive your brother just yet – and not like this. It isn’t too late to turn him away.” 

“I am not doing this for myself. I have already found peace. …I was lost, yes - but my master has lifted the veil from my eyes. I know that Hanzo had his reasons. They were not just. They were not excusable… but I do not find him beyond hope. Every year, he travels back to Hanamura, knowing the risk, to offer incense at my shrine.”

“He’s an assassin, Genji,” McCree interrupted, without even bothering to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping, “And no offense, but those goons your old clan hired couldn’t hit Zarya point blank. …If your brother is as good a sniper as you say he is, they wouldn’t scare him. Not a bit.”

“It isn’t so simple,” Genji sighed, looking away, as though holding something back – “My brother is… disadvantaged, so to speak. Travelling alone, anywhere, poses a great risk to his physical and mental well-being. A moment of carelessness, for him, could very well lead to a fate worse than death.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean? How is some crime boss ‘disadvantaged?’ What – he startin’ to stink with all that dirty money linin’ his pockets?”

“It is not my place to speak of it. You may ask my brother when you meet him and see if he will care to tell you.”

“Yeah, like I’d ever want to talk to some asshole who’d turn his sword against his own brother. I don’t know ‘bout the rest of you, but I’m feelin’ a little uneasy, knowin’ we’ll have a guy like that walkin’ ‘round the watchpoint while we sleep.”

“For once, I agree with Jesse,” Angela added, “…You didn’t see the state of your body, when we found you. He didn’t just try to kill you, Genji, he…”

“Just say it: it was a bloodbath.” Jesse leaned against the wall and lit his cigarillo. “You hear ‘bout shootin’ bodies to make sure they’re dead, but your brother must’ve stabbed you a dozen fuckin’ times. When we picked you up, you barely even looked like a person anymore.”

“I really didn’t think you were gonna make it,” Lena agreed, “It was overkill. I wouldn’t have done that to a guy I _hated_!”

“Everyone, I ask this of you as a friend –” Genji began, folding his hands together, almost placatingly, “Please: treat my brother with kindness. He made a mistake – a mistake that he profoundly regrets. He has led a difficult and unhappy life. …Does Overwatch not believe in second chances?”

Jesse sighed, knowing that he, of all people, had no right to judge. He’d killed, maimed, and tortured… but never, in a million years, would he have ever considered harming a member of his own family. It took a special kind of evil for a man to cut down his own flesh and blood.

“No promises. You say he had his reasons, but if you ask me, there ain’t no excuse for what he did to you.”

“Alright, everyone,” Winston interrupted, calling for order, “We are welcoming a new agent into this team today. I am not demanding that we greet him with cheers and handshakes, but… I would ask you all to remain civil. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Depends on how ‘reasonable’ our 'Lord Shimada’ plans on bein’. I ain’t shootin’ first, but I’ll damn well finish him off if he asks for it.”

Genji turned to him, pleading - “Jesse, please…”

The sound of the gate squeaking open heralded his arrival. The members of Overwatch crowded around the main hall, waiting – some with dread, some with curiosity… and McCree, with pure, unbridled _hatred_ burning in his gut, all aimed towards a man he had never met.

…But as Genji’s murderer, the infamous “Shimada Hanzo,” walked through the door, the comforting scent of yuzu and sage, distinctly omegan, took his breath away. 

Jesse’s eyelids fluttered closed… 

Pictures and sounds of happier days trickled down into his consciousness, flooding his lungs… His mother called his name from across the wheat fields: her straw hat fluttering gently in the breeze - her smile blended into the warm sunflowers.

He could almost imagine himself there, now, in his old, family home in Santa Fe… with Shimada - with _Hanzo_ \- by his side, surrounded by pups that looked like him, _spoke_ like him - 

Forgetting his hatred, all that Jesse could think about, at that very moment, was how such a lovely creature could surely do no wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

Someday, _very soon_ , Hanzo Shimada would be his mate. The omega would take Jesse’s name, manage his home, carry his pups… Jesse had already decided upon it, right then and there. Though, in truth, he didn’t know the first step of how to turn that dream into reality.

 _’In a worst case scenario, I could always just force him,’_ whispered the primitive part of Jesse’s brain. Though Hanzo looked muscular enough, he was still _only_ an omega - still a good five, perhaps six inches shorter than Jesse, and at least twenty pounds lighter. 

…But resorting to force was a tactic that Jesse would have expected only from a lesser alpha who couldn’t rely on legitimate skills to attract a mate. …Jesse considered himself more of a gentleman than that. 

If Hanzo was to bond with him, he wanted it to be of his own free will. …He wanted his omega to adore both him and the family that they would create together. No malice. No resentment. Just a love, plain and simple. An omega and a family of his own… The image was so clear, it almost seemed to blend into his own reality. 

As Hanzo drew closer, Jesse realized that he couldn’t stop smiling.

He had wanted to be the first to break the ice, but before he could even open his mouth, that strange little voice in the back of his mind asked: _’…Does my breath stink? Do I smell like tobacco?’_

Coughing awkwardly, Jesse inched towards Lúcio’s turntable and, as surreptitiously as possible, snuffed out his cigarillo right on top of the plastic. …The boy was going to kill him. He was just a beta, after all; he wouldn’t understand the importance of such a critical decision. Pleasing Hanzo was the key to Jesse’s future. 

He only had one chance to make a good first impression. The way that he handled himself during their first conversation, from his word choice to his scent, would determine how Hanzo would view him for the rest of their relationship: whether it would be as a threat, as a “brother figure”… or even as a potential mate. 

Jesse had to ensure, by any means necessary, that he fell into the final category. 

“Anija. It is good to see you again.” Without a single display of fear, Genji made his approach, bowing gently; his brother returned the gesture, after just the slightest moment of hesitation. “I am glad and humbled that you have chosen to accept my offer. On behalf of all of us: welcome! Welcome to Overwatch! My friends, it is my greatest pleasure to introduce you to my older brother: Shimada Hanzo.”

From the cold stares and awkward silence, interrupted only by a few weak, insincere hellos, Jesse could tell that he was the only one who’d taken note of Hanzo’s beauty. Even Pharah was scowling, though he knew she recognized that scent. …It was sad, in a way: a perfect omegan rose, wasted on omnics, a self-righteous alpha, and a handful of scent-blind betas that could never understand the intricacies of the world around them. At least Hanzo would have Jesse there to appreciate him.

Genji was right, after all: his brother surely had his reasons for doing what he did. Maybe he’d been manipulated. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he was just frightened, and he’d lashed out blindly - omegas were so easily startled. 

_Or **maybe** it was because Hanzo was just a silly little omega, weak and feebleminded, who couldn’t be trusted to think for himself._

Jesse shook his head, knowing that his antiquated mindset wasn’t actually correct. Omegas were plenty capable: after all, they had Hana fighting with them, and she’d never once let them down. 

…But knowing something and _believing_ in it were two separate concepts entirely. 

Admittedly, despite his knowledge of the facts, a part of him still thought that Hanzo was stupid: that surely, _whatever his reasons_ , as an omega, the man couldn’t possibly be held accountable for his actions. It had only been recently, after all, that omegas could be found guilty in a court of law and even sent to _prison_ \- a decision that Jesse and millions of other alphas worldwide didn’t personally support. 

“Howdy, Pumpkin’,” Jesse finally greeted, with a gentle tip of his hat, “The name’s McCree. Jesse McCree… I’ve been a friend of your brother’s for a while, now. Genji’s always talkin’ ‘bout you. It’s good to finally see you in the flesh. …I know it’s rough gettin’ used to a new home, ‘specially for folks like _us_ –” Jesse continued, trying his damnest to be subtle. Alphas and omegas, whose strongest sense was smell, could never truly feel comfortable in an environment that didn’t bear their scent. In that way, he and Hanzo were one and the same.

“If you need anything, Darlin’, anything at all, you just let me know. …I’ll always be here for you.”

All eyes were upon him. Varying degrees of shock, though the sharpest gaze of all must have come from the omega, himself. The color drained from his face, as he sniffed at the air – scenting him.

…Did he like what he smelled? _Was today the day_? McCree put on his best, charming smile as he watched the omega’s face for the beautiful, fleeting moment when curiosity would blossom into attraction. …But that moment never came. Instead, Hanzo’s expression twisted into the most miserable, god-forsaken scowl he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“That will not be necessary… McCree-san.”

Ouch.

“I-It’s just… Jesse,” he recovered, with an awkward laugh, “I know you Japanese love your honorifics, but really - Jesse is fine. …You know, if you want a tour, I can -”

And… Hanzo had already turned back towards his brother. The bitter sting of rejection cut him like a knife between the ribs.

“Genji… do you remember me?” Hanzo asked, with a voice, ten times as gentle as the one he’d used for him, just seconds ago.

“Of course I do, Anija. I could never forget.” When the omega glanced away, clearly ashamed, Genji only smiled with a playful tilt of his head. “You are my brother. You were… my dearest friend. I hope that you find peace here.”

“There are many variables that will come into play which will determine whether or not that is feasible. Will I be given my own quarters, or… will I be expected to… _share_?”

“Everybody has their own room here in Gibraltar, but our secondary locations aren’t as large. There is no need to worry, however. I have already informed our leader regarding your need for… ‘privacy.’”

For just a split second, an expression of unbridled _horror_ flashed across Hanzo’s face… until Winston spoke up.

“That ‘leader’ would be me,” Winston stated, as dignified as ever, as he handed Hanzo a datapad with his temporary login, written on a sticky note, “While I lack the personal experience to fully comprehend the intricacies of the ‘cultural system’ to which you are bound, I _can_ , somewhat, appreciate the impact that it must have on you. It isn’t any trouble to make a few extra accommodations, considering the circumstances. I have also arranged for a series of care packages to be delivered to your quarters.”

They would contain blankets and cushions, Jesse suspected - dozens of them, to promote healthy, omegan nesting behaviors. Perhaps a space heater for Hanzo’s comfort. At maturity, an omega’s body temperature ran at only 96 degrees Fahrenheit; such fragile little creatures didn’t fare well in the cold. 

“I do not have any money to repay you for those resources,” Hanzo replied, without a hint of gratitude.

“Genji offered to pay for them – though if you would prefer, I can deduct the cost from your salary, instead,” Winston countered, just as callously.

“…Are you implying that I am to receive financial compensation for my service to this organization?”

“I’m not ‘implying’ anything; you _will_ be paid. Overwatch stands for righteousness and order. We would be going against our own mission if we began withholding benefits from our own soldiers – regardless of who they may be.”

 _…Smart phrasing._ The betas would think that Winston was referring to the man’s past actions, instead of what he actually _was_ \- though McCree, and likely Pharah, would know better. Even today, omegas were not permitted to handle money. They were forbidden from opening bank accounts and using credit cards, ensuring that they would never be able to survive without an alpha there to make purchases on their behalf.

“Your wages will be deposited into Genji’s account for now, until you have the chance to set up your own.”

“I understand,” Hanzo responded, keeping up the charade, and knowing full well that Genji would serve as his ‘guardian’ from now on. 

“Excellent. Well… before all of this excitement, the rest of us were just about to sit down for supper, which I’m sure has already gotten cold. …Would you care to join us?”

“No.” …Not even a moment’s hesitation.

Genji removed his visor and smiled back at him, silently begging – “Are you sure? It was my turn to cook, tonight; don’t you want omurice? …When was the last time you had a decent meal?”

“Let him go, Genji,” Jesse interrupted with as much audible sympathy as he could muster, “He must be tired, travellin’ all this way.”

“Yes. I am just… tired.”

“…Alright,” the younger man finally relented, “I hope to see you tomorrow at breakfast, then, Anija. Remember to set your alarm: 0700 sharp!”

“I will consider it.”

With a reluctant wave goodbye, Genji followed Angela out of the room, with the rest of the team, slowly following after him.

“Your brother sure is a bundle of energy, huh, Love? A real chatterbox,” Lena laughed, though with an audible hint of awkwardness.

“Hanzo has always been rather reserved,” Genji whispered; it was only due to his superior sense of hearing that McCree even caught their conversation at all, “I know that he isn’t an easy person to befriend, but I would appreciate it if you treat him with the kindness that you have shown me over the years.”

“I promise I’ll try. I owe you that much, but –”

Jesse’s eavesdropping was cut short only by the sound of movement behind him. Schooling his face into a perfect, trustworthy smile, he turned to meet Hanzo’s sullen little stare, gazing up at him. 

“McCree-san,” Hanzo called, his voice, vulnerable and trusting, _typically omegan_ , whether he knew it or not, “I… have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything,” Jesse declared, beaming with pride, “You name it.”

“I would prefer if you could refrain from revealing to the others what you have learned about my nature today. I do not wish to be perceived as… a burden. Or a liability.”

“Nobody here would ever think that.”

“On the contrary: your companions already do.” He didn’t seem fearful, strangely enough. Hanzo stood with his head held high. Confident and bold. Solemnly accepting of the malice that the others surely held for him. “The female alpha, in particular. Did you smell her pheromones? …From them, I could sense her hostility towards me.”

“Don’t worry,” Jesse replied, eager to jump to Hanzo’s defense, “I’ll talk to her; she’ll keep her mouth shut.”

“…You sound so certain.” And just like that, the omega _laughed_ – all disbelieving, mocking tones, certainly, but… Jesse found it beautiful, all the same. Hanzo deserved to be happy, always, if it ensured that he could sound like that forever.

“I _am_ certain. She’ll keep your secret. …But why’re you hidin’ it, anyway? You ain’t _ashamed_ to be an omega or anything, are you?”

…Wrong move.

Just like that, Hanzo locked himself down; his amused little smile twisted into anger and bitterness –

“… _Goodnight_ , McCree-san.”

“Hanzo? Han, please - wait!” He grabbed onto Hanzo’s arm, just as he began to turn around – only for the omega to tug himself out of his grasp, disgusted. 

“Even if you have rescued and befriended my brother, you have no right to speak to me with such crude familiarity. As you stated yourself, McCree-san, ‘us Japanese’ place great value upon our honorifics.”

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry,” Jesse stuttered out, backing away in surrender, “I didn’t mean to step on your toes, there, Darlin’. …I-I mean… Shimada… san.”

Thank God… The omega’s expression softened, if only just barely, as though relieved – and surprised – that an alpha had actually bothered to _listen_.

“Then tread more carefully for now on,” Hanzo scolded, before turning to leave, once more.

“Wait.”

“…What is it, now?”

“Do you even know how to get to your room? You’ll get lost for hours if you just start wanderin’ around this place.”

“I have already memorized the general layout of this building. …I arrived three days ago and have been scouting it, ever since.”

“Ha! And you were worried the others would think you’re dead weight.” In a way, McCree was actually… _proud_. His omega was a little bit clever after all – though certainly not as smart as he was beautiful. For just a moment, he wondered if he could probe even further – “Say… if you went to all that trouble to find escape routes, you don’t trust us, do you?”

“No.” He didn’t even bother to hide it.

“And if you don’t trust us, you ain’t plannin’ on showin’ up to breakfast tomorrow, are you?”

“No.”

“…Genji’ll be disappointed.” McCree pointed out, softening his tone. “Well… that’s your decision, I guess. I ain’t about to try and convince you otherwise. I’m sure you got your reasons. …But training here in Overwatch is harder than you’d think. You’re settin’ yourself up for failure if you skip dinner _and_ breakfast. …Look, if your issue here if that you want to be alone, then fine: you just focus on buildin’ your nest and gettin’ comfortable. I’ll bring food up to your room until you get a little more… situated. Okay?”

Hanzo blinked back at him with such omegan innocence that Jesse’s old, cholesterol clogged heart skipped a beat. “…Why are you doing this?”

For a moment, Jesse merely stood there, desperately searching for the right combination of words that would earn the approval of an omega who was simultaneously traditional and prideful, in his own special way.

“…I ran with a gang, too, you know? A lot of people hated my guts when I first joined Overwatch. But I had a couple mentors that somehow made livin’ here… bearable. Way I see it, I’m just payin’ it forward.” 

“I see.” Hanzo’s eyes darted over him, likely observing his expression, his posture, his body language - Omegas were creatures of subtlety, and Hanzo was clearly no exception. “…So be it.”

A positive response - _finally_ , Jesse could breathe. “Great! It’s good to know we won’t be keepin’ you from eating. I’ll bring over some food later on tonight, then.”

“On one condition. I... do not feel comfortable allowing an alpha into my nest. You will leave the tray at my door, you will knock twice, and then you will walk away. …Do you agree to my terms?”

…God, if that wasn’t the cutest thing – so modest! So omegan! The very image of the shrinking violet. Jesse couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright: leave the food at the door, knock twice, and make myself scarce. …Got it.” 

"It is not my intention to appear unappreciative,” Hanzo elaborated, tacking on his little explanation right at the very last second, “…Thank you, McCree-san.”

“Hey, it’s my pleasure. I meant what I said earlier: you can count on me.” 

…And if everything went according to plan, Hanzo _would_ be counting on him: more and more, as time went on. Jesse would shake off his tired, underachieving ways to become the alpha that Hanzo had never even known he’d wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

Eager to knot him, Higuchi tugged at his leash, leading him towards the master bedroom. Though his “chain” was made of nothing more than thin, white lace, when tied around his neck, it felt stronger and heavier than iron. Hanzo stumbled awkwardly, blinded by his wedding veil - a symbol of omegan dependence and forced submission. 

His sacrifices had been for nothing. Leadership of the Shimada-gumi meant little when their influence waned with every passing day. When their coffers lay empty and their debts gained interest. ..He hadn't considered the details. Hanzo had been so focused on regaining his title, he hadn't realized that he would need to _defend_ it.

In the end, to save his clan from financial ruin and an inevitable collapse, he had no choice but to proceed with his wedding regardless. It was undeniably humiliating, and yet, in a way, Hanzo knew that he was lucky. 

He had to remind himself that most omegas never had the privilege of being married at all. In an effort to promote equal rights, many of the beta-dominated world governments had erected laws against polygamy, limiting everybody, including alphas, to only one spouse. But alphas, as they always did, pushed back against the rules that inconvenienced them. Governmental efforts could hardly do any good when there were no such laws limiting the number of an alpha’s _mates_. An alpha could go on knotting as many omegas as he wanted, binding them for life, keeping countless omegas trapped together in the same home, so long as he never "married" any of them.

…At the very least, Hanzo would never find himself competing with a second or third omega. He would never be subjected to an unwanted threesome – or perhaps something even worse than that. He’d heard the stories: Middle Eastern princes with harems full of desperate omegas, their heats, synched, clawing at each other for the chance to “earn” their alpha’s knot.

He could have been like them. He truly _was_ lucky. …Even if it didn’t feel that way.

“Shimada-kumichō,” Higuchi cooed, tearing off his little bride’s veil as they entered the bedroom, “My _Hanzo-chan_ … what are you going to do, now that your father is not here to stop me?”

“Nothing,” the young man answered, “As your omega, I am duty bound to obey your orders.”

“I do not appreciate the way your father made a fool of me in my own home. Tell me, omega: where did he die?” 

Hanzo’s heart sank. Not even married for twenty minutes, and he’d already lost his name. _‘Omega’_ … was that all that he would ever be? Was that the only way that people would see him from now on? 

“...There,” Hanzo replied, “In the corner.”

“Then that is where I shall mark you. Come –”

“But I… I have yet to prepare myself.”

“…You did not prepare before the ceremony?”

“I had believed that you would help me to… 'accommodate' your knot.” Didn't his alpha want to savor this moment?

Wasn’t his alpha supposed to love and to cherish him? …In a way, Hanzo had known that it would never happen - that an alpha could never possess the ability to love him - and yet, at that moment, he actually felt... _disappointed_.

What omega didn’t want to be loved? As cold as he could seem, at times, Hanzo was only human. 

“Were you earnestly hoping for _foreplay_?” Higuchi hissed, disgusted, as he quickly boxed Hanzo into the corner where his father once slept. “Let this be a valuable lesson for you, omega: every morning, you are to prepare yourself for me; to be ready and eager - _always_. ...Or I will force it in, dry. I have the right, as Alpha, to take you whenever I want, _wherever_ I want you. It is your omegan duty to accommodate me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Alpha. ...I will prepare myself, starting tomorrow.”

“You do not understand: I want you _today_. Hanzo-chan, I have been waiting sixty-two years for this moment. Sixty-two years to claim an omega of my own. …I do not intend to wait for a single moment more. Now, get on your knees and spread your legs.”

“Please, may we just... start later? I-I need to prepare. I... have never done anything like this. May I have just a little more time, Alpha? Even a single hour will be sufficient. I just… _I need more time_.” 

"I said: _on your knees_ , omega!" 

Withering beneath his alpha’s anger, Hanzo crumbled down against the wall and prayed that it would simply swallow him whole.

“ _Selfishly_ , you delayed our wedding for the sake of your 'ascension ceremony' - and I humored you. Have I not shown you great patience, already?” Grabbing the omega by his ankles, Higuchi tore off Hanzo's kimono and pried his legs apart. The moment Hanzo started struggling, he slammed his fist down against the boy’s stomach – “When I signed that contract with your father, I was promised an obedient and proper omega. Kumichō or not, that is what you shall become!”

Hanzo stared up at the alpha’s cock, poking through the folds of his kimono: hard and red and angry – 

Despite the indignity, he cried out for help, for mercy – for anyone to hear his voice. Terror burst through every nerve in his body, ripping him apart like a hurricane. Higuchi dug his fingernails into the back of his neck, scruffing him like an animal. 

As though accepting his own helplessness, Hanzo’s body went limp. His vision blurred, and he squeezed his eyes shut, even as Higuchi pressed up against him, sliding his cock over his entrance, as though trying – and failing – to arouse him.

“ _Shimada-san_!” someone called from the entrance to the master bedroom. That voice… though it butchered the pronunciation of his name, it was so loud, so _bright_ , that it seemed to erase Higuchi himself from existence. “ _Hanzo!_ ”

“ _Hanzo!_ ”

\-----------------------

He jolted awake, gasping for breath. When he pressed his hand down against his nesting blankets, Hanzo found that the fabrics were soaked through with sweat. 

Though McCree was still shouting for him, even in reality, he didn’t have the strength to answer. Not yet, when his pulse still thundered in his ears. Not when his hands were shaking. 

He had the same dream every night... but this was the first time that the scene never finished. In all of his past nightmares, Higuchi had always succeeded. Even so, just as he did every other morning, Hanzo reached between his thighs, checking for the absence of blood, slick, semen – anything that he could use to prove to himself that it was only a dream. 

And every day, to his relief, he found nothing. He survived - though perhaps not unscathed. Exhausted, Hanzo closed his eyes and let the gentle sunlight warm his face.

“Han!” Jesse continued to call, “Hey, everything alright in there? For fuck’s sake, _say something_ , or I’m bustin’ down this door!”

“Everything is fine,” he muttered out, at last – if only to calm the raging alpha just behind the wall.

“Like hell it is,” the alpha continued to rave, despite his efforts, “…I can smell the fear on you, you know.”

 _Omegan distress pheromones_.

As skilled a warrior as he was, even Hanzo still produced them, at times. They were meant as a failsafe – a way for the weakest secondary sex to attract the attention of every alpha in the vicinity, if only to recruit their aid. It was why kidnapped omegas were often kept in windowless basements. The smell of an omega’s pheromones could penetrate even through glass - and even the smallest of cracks.

“As I said: I am fine. It was just… It is already over.”

Without waiting for a response, Hanzo pulled himself out of bed and threw his blankets – along with his pillowcases and bedsheet, into the laundry hamper. Staring at own reflection in his bathroom mirror, Hanzo realized that he couldn’t stop himself from shaking.

He looked like a mess.

He ran his hand through his hair and tried to count the greys. …More and more popped up every day, it seemed. He tugged off his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the shower. An hour must have passed, perhaps two, with him just… standing there, beneath the stream - and yet, when he finally emerged from the bathroom, the scent of tobacco and whisky still lingered in his doorway.

“...McCree-san?” he called, checking to see if the alpha was still there.

“Yeah? ...You okay, Shimada-san? You need anything?”

“What I would like… is a moment of solitude.”

“Well, I disagree; I don't think that's what you need right now."

So presumptuous - as if this alpha knew better than he did about what _he_ needed! Hanzo almost burst a blood vessel, right then and there, from frustration alone.

"Look, just talk to me. Did you eat all of your dinner? ...Did you like it?” McCree asked, ignoring his request and choosing instead of make _smalltalk_ , much to Hanzo’s chagrin.

“...Why do you not listen when I speak?”

“Because I made that goddamn food myself, there's no way you couldn't have figured that out, and the least you could do give me an answer,” the alpha replied, with just a hint of irritation that _twisted_ Hanzo’s gut with a familiar sense of fear. 

McCree was right, after all: Hanzo had already known that he had tried to cook for him, personally. ...It certainly wasn't his brother's omurice, anyway. What Hanzo had found, sitting outside of his bedroom just after midnight, was a grilled steak, a baked potato, green beans, and a slice of warm apple pie. He knew that it was Jesse – as strange as the idea of an alpha cooking for an omega could be. 

He sighed - the guilt creeping in and overpowering any sense of uncertainty that he'd felt towards the alpha. ...He should have thanked him, at the very least.

“…You said that Genji would have prepared extra portions. Why did you go through all of the effort of cooking something yourself?” he asked, instead – as cold as ever.

“I felt bad stickin’ you with leftovers – okay? Figured I’d make somethin' fresh. …But that ain’t important. You didn’t answer my question: did you like it?”

McCree’s insistence on the topic caught him off-guard. …For just a split second, Hanzo didn’t know what to say.

“Yes. …Of course I did. It… Is not what I am accustomed to, but… I enjoyed it. The pie, specifically was... I rather liked the pie.” He tried his best to sound grateful, even if it came out more stiff and awkward than anything else. Jesse's cooking was better than the MREs and prepackaged snacks that Hanzo usually subsisted on, certainly - and it was better than the indignity of crawling into an omega’s shelter with his tail between his legs. 

“Then it wasn’t any trouble at all,” McCree replied with cheer, as though he hadn’t noticed Hanzo’s discomfort, “I, uh… I made you some pancakes for breakfast, too. They were good this mornin', but they’re already kind of... cold and dried out by now.”

“You do not have to do this,” Hanzo insisted.

“I _want_ to. It must’ve been tough, livin’ on your own. Not specifically ‘cause you’re an omega, or anything, but… because it’d be tough for _anyone_ , I’d think. After my pa died, I set off of my own. Left my mamá and my sisters behind. Livin' alone… life was rough. Real rough. Thought ‘bout runnin’ back home a dozen times a day… but I was too proud and too stupid to admit I left the nest too early. I just… kept goin’ ‘til I crashed and burned. Did a lot of shit I ain’t proud of, just to live to see another day.”

Though Hanzo would never admit as much, he found Jesse’s sincerity… refreshing. The memory of the alpha pounding on the door in his dream, calling out to him, pulling his consciousness away from the grasp of old ghosts - somehow, it comforted him.

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet here I am, sittin’ in an empty hallway, talkin’ to a wall and lookin’ like a damn fool for it.” 

“...You must have grown tired of waiting. You have been sitting there for hours,” Hanzo admitted, at the very least, trying to have enough respect to recognize Jesse’s efforts, “You should have left earlier, McCree-san. I... I would not have thought less of you.”

“It ain't about pride or nothin', this time. I just didn’t want to risk leavin’, if you really needed help.”

Startled by the kindness in Jesse’s voice, Hanzo stared at the door, mesmerized. Though he knew better than to trust _anybody_ , at this point, for even Genji was a stranger, as he was now, a little, omegan voice in the back of his mind told him that he could rely on McCree just a little bit more, from now on.

...Not that Hanzo would ever deign to listen to it.

“Hey, Shimada-san?” Jesse continued.

“Yes?”

“I, uh… gotta get back to the meeting room. I’m already ten minutes late for a mission debrief, and Winston’ll put my ass on cleanin’ duty for a month if I stall any longer.”

“Very well. …Thank you, McCree-san,” Hanzo relented. It was only the polite thing to do, after all, considering the inconvenience that Jesse had incurred, on his behalf. “I… appreciate the fact that you stayed.”

“Bet you’ll appreciate my pancakes more," the alpha teased, "Cold or not, they’ll be the best you’ve ever had.” 

…Remembering his promise, after pushing himself to his feet, McCree knocked twice – and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

Jesse had been feeding Hanzo three square meals a day for about a month, now. 

Though Genji had purchased a portable stove and rice cooker for his brother’s bedroom, Hanzo rarely, if ever made use of them; the man had admitted as much, when Jesse had asked. …It was slowly becoming easier to make conversation, though the two of them rarely delved into any topics more significant than food preferences or favorite books. 

And did Hanzo ever _love_ talking about literature - 

In the past ten days alone, McCree had read more novels than he had in the last _twenty years_ prior to Hanzo’s arrival. 

...After all, he couldn’t allow himself to be caught in a lie - he’d blindly agreed that Hanzo’s favorite books were his, too, even though he knew nothing about them. As though preparing for a dozen last minute book reports, he’d crammed that information into his memory until he could fluently make poignant, pseudo-intellectual statements that could surely fool Hanzo into thinking that they had something in common. 

God… McCree couldn’t believe that a simple omega, that _anybody_ , truly, could enjoy reading books that were as long, and dry, and boring as the ones that suited Hanzo’s tastes. 

But with every “theme” and “symbol” he spoke about, with every “correct” answer he gave to Hanzo’s questions regarding emotion and morality, he could feel the bond between them growing stronger. 

Everything would come in time; he only had to be patient.

Currently, it was enough for Hanzo to have slowly begun associating him with companionship, and more importantly, _food_. Even during missions together, now, the omega would ask McCree if he’d packed extra snacks – and of course he always did. A couple of apples and a few bags of trail mix, just for Hanzo. McCree wouldn’t allow himself to be caught empty-handed; he was an alpha, after all. A traditional omega like Hanzo would expect him to be a good provider. …That mentality stemmed from the age before grocery stores and restaurants, when alphas were still expected to hunt and to kill on behalf of their omegas. If he wanted to impress Hanzo, he had to live up to that ancient expectation of alphas everywhere: to reassure the man, even subconsciously, that he and their pups would never go hungry if they mated.

With every single meal he prepared, Jesse was promising, in his own special way: “ _I can take care of you_.” 

He hated cooking, honestly - it was omega's work, after all - but… it wasn’t as though it would last forever. Once he and Hanzo were mated, kitchen duties would fall solely to his mate. He only hoped that Hanzo was as proper as he thought he was: birds flew, fish swam, and good omegas were skilled in the kitchen. It was just the way of the world. 

It wouldn’t do to find out, only after mating him, that Hanzo was like Hana – some spoiled, arrogant little “modern omega” whose cooking skills were limited to heating up TV dinners. As much as he liked Hana as a person and a teammate, he could barely even recognize her as an omega at all. He had no desire to protect her. No desire to truly spend time with her. 

…Not like he did with Hanzo.

As Jesse sat in the back of the transport, returning to Gibraltar after a mission in King’s Row, he stared down at the candid photos that he’d taken of 'his omega' when he wasn’t looking: a picture of him on the rooftops of Eichenwalde with his golden ribbon, flowing in the breeze. A picture of him sleeping in the shuttle, cocooned in his blankets, specialized for omegan comfort, looking so peaceful –

He wondered if Hanzo would look like that on a lazy Sunday morning, sleeping beside him in the warmth of their nest. …Or perhaps he’d be _screaming_ as Jesse made cum for the third time that day. _Was_ Hanzo a screamer? …Or would he stay silent? Either would be fine, Jesse realized, so long as Hanzo was the type of omega who would want to cuddle afterwards. He wanted an affectionate omega, after all – a mate, instead of an easy fuck.

“Hey Genji,” McCree began, unable to repress his curiosity, “I was wonderin’… has your brother always been this distant?”

To the majority of Overwatch’s members, Hanzo was downright hostile. Mei had asked him a personal question during practice, and the man had simply walked away without so much as a glance in her direction. And when Pharah had dared to criticize his marksmanship? …He had asked what ‘such an unrefined girl’ would know about technique, raining missiles down blindly, wasting precious resources, and praying to hit anything at all. Angela had to intervene, quieting Pharah as she shouted after Hanzo as he simply packed up his things with his nose in the air - _so infuriatingly superior_ \- like she hadn’t said anything at all. 

Worst of all… he kept his distance, even with Genji. ...It was just guilt, most likely. The Shimada brothers still communicated through messages now and then, after all. It was only in person, when Hanzo had no choice but to stare back at the evidence of what he'd done, that his resolve seemed to crumble. 

"...Genji, you payin' attention?"

Genji glanced over at his companion before returning to his datapad, typing away, “...You seem very interested in my brother, lately. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, I hardly ever see him outside of missions and training. He doesn’t eat with us, he doesn’t talk to us… No offense, but havin’ your brother in the base is like livin’ with a ghost. I mean… was he like this when he was a pup? ... _Wasn’t he ever affectionate_?”

Slowly turning to face him, Genji removed his helmet entirely, staring him down with protective ferocity that could only ever come from an alpha. “’Was he ever affectionate?’ Jesse… are you screening my brother as a potential mate?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Jesse lied straight through his teeth. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand the boy’s concerns; of course Genji felt protective. With no father around, Hanzo was technically _his_ charge. …But, whether Jesse could empathize with his friend or not, the last thing he needed at the moment was a _fucking_ cockblock - “I just think Han could use a helpin’ hand gettin’ used to life in Overwatch. That’s all.”

“You were threatening to kill him just one month ago,” Genji accused, his tone, aggressive. “And yet the second you catch his scent, you begin coddling him. …Do you honestly think that I haven’t noticed? Ever since Pharah criticized him, every day during training, you set my brother up for guaranteed success. You will stun bots and hesitate, so that Hanzo can ‘steal’ your kill.”

For a moment, Jesse was silent – his face, frozen in shock… before his eyes darkened and he leaned back, surprisingly casual. “…Yeah,” he admitted, “Okay, you got me; I’m coddlin’ him. _So what_? So I’m tryin’ to make Hanzo happy.”

“Is it because he is an omega?”

Jesse stood suddenly, glaring down at his “friend” with such clear malice that Genji seemed to shirk away at the weight of it.

“What if it is? Can’t an alpha be chivalrous anymore? So maybe I’m only lookin’ past all his _baggage_ because he’s omegan. So maybe I’m lookin’ out for him, in general. Omegas need a helpin’ hand sometimes. Is offerin’ that to him so wrong? Is that so ‘bad?’” 

“I did not intend to sling mud upon your character, Jesse -” Genji relented, sighing, “If you are supporting my brother as an ally and a friend - and _only_ as a friend... then I am in your debt. But Hanzo is not well, and I must respectfully ask you to keep some distance. He has led a difficult, sheltered life in a very traditional family. The only relationship that he has ever had was an arranged marriage with disastrous consequences.”

“Hold up - your brother was married?”

“Yes. To an alpha in his sixties: Higuchi Goro.” McCree’s face contorted in disgust… though perhaps not for the reason that Genji would have anticipated. Though he knew from Hanzo’s scent that the man was untouched and pure, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder: had Hanzo already been... _defiled_? “My brother was still so young at the time; his scent hadn't fully developed... but Higuchi-san attempted to consummate their marriage regardless. He forced him down; he was going to… to _rape_ him - so my brother fought back. Unarmed, all he had left were his spirit dragons. It was gruesome. At such short range the dragons tore Higuchi-san apart. My brother ran out of Shimada Castle covered in his alpha’s blood. ...That is the extent of what he has told me. I assume that, in reality, the situation was significantly _worse_.”

There were only two “unspeakable” crimes for which an omega could ever be traditionally persecuted: killing his pups… and killing his alpha. The punishment, anywhere, would have been severe.

“…So he left the nest.”

“Correct. In Hanamura, my brother is still wanted for mariticide. Though the nation of Japan has progressed as a whole, Hanamura remains exceptionally traditional. As an omega, if my brother had ever been captured while visiting my shrine, he would have been impaled and burned at the stake, former kumichō or not.” Genji drew closer, lowering his voice. “…So while I ask that you continue treating my brother with kindness, I must request, as Hanzo’s guardian - and your friend - that you do not infringe upon his hard-earned independence. Hanzo has been manipulated by alphas for much of his life; he is not ready to be courted. Perhaps he never will be.”

An unspeakable mix of emotions ran through Jesse's mind: anger at this “Higuchi” for daring to lay his hands on an unwilling omega, pity that the one he loved had endured so much misery, annoyance at Genji’s persistent interference, and most of all... _relief that Hanzo was still a virgin_.

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout that, pardner. I wouldn’t do that to him – or you.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Genji smiled up at him with relief and joy, clear in his expression. …It almost made Jesse feel guilty for lying. “Despite everything that has happened… my brother is still so precious to me. I only want him to be happy.”

"Yeah. ...Me too."

________________________________

Just a little after midnight, despite his exhaustion, Jesse stood in front of the stove, brewing curry for Hanzo’s late-night dinner. It was the first time that Jesse would be attempting anything other than familiar American staples. It was a risk, certainly – though if Hanzo was as traditional an omega as he presumed, then the gamble of preparing something from his childhood, something _Japanese_ , could very well pay him back in spades. 

…Well, at least it would if he _succeeded_. Jesse stared down at the pot and wondered how he’d ever gotten to this point. He’d followed all of the instructions in the video, but for some reason, his iteration of the recipe seemed to congeal into a lumpy mess instead of a smooth, cohesive sauce.

When the door slid open behind him, he turned around, expecting to see Genji or perhaps Lena waltz in for a midnight snack, but instead… 

It was _Hanzo_.

Immediately, he straightened his posture; he wiped his hands on his pants and combed his fingers through his hair. …Maybe he even flexed a little.

“McCree-san?” the omega greeted, with a voice sweeter than honey.

“Han! I-I mean… Shimada-san. Howdy.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question. Can’t believe you left your nest! I don’t think I’ve seen you outside of combat the entire time you’ve been here.”

“I came to prepare my evening meal; I... thought that you would be asleep. I received your message this morning – the one attached to my breakfast tray. I thought that you had been assigned to a mission.”

…Right. The sticky note. 

“Yeah, I was. Terrorist attack in King’s Row - completely unexpected. Sorry I had to up and leave so early. If Winston had given me a little more time, I would’ve left you somethin’ better than a few last-minutes sandwiches for lunch. Did you find them okay? I know it seems kind of crazy, hidin’ crap behind the milk jugs, but you can never been too careful, sharin’ a fridge with Torbjörn, king of the food thieves.”

“Yes, I… found the sandwiches.” Strangely enough, the omega looked a little guilty, absentmindedly straightening his clothes, “I would like to remind you, however, that you are under no obligation to prepare anything for me at all. Especially on days like today. You have been fighting for over eighteen hours; you were not scheduled to arrive until eleven this evening. You should be resting,” Hanzo scolded, like a finicky omegan mother. 

_It was adorable -_

“Nice of you to worry, but I’m fine,” he quipped back, positively glowing under the warmth of Hanzo’s concern… “A young alpha’s gotta have some energy, right?”

“...Your eyes are bloodshot,” Hanzo remarked, drawing so close that McCree could almost imagine leaning in to _snap_ his teeth through the omega’s scent glands, “And you smell like… iron - and rubbing alcohol. Were you injured?”

“Sharp nose. Yeah, a grenade went off. I tried to jump around a corner, but… guess it just wasn’t my mornin’. Ain’t a big deal, though. Didn’t get me too bad; it’s just a flesh wound.”

“McCree-san –”

“Hey, quit fussin’. I promised I’d take care of you, and I will. I mean what I say. …Alright?”

Hanzo stared up at him with a strange expression, caught between guilt and… something akin to admiration. If Jesse squinted just enough, perhaps it even looked like _fondness_. The sight of it took Jesse’s breath away…

“You should take care of _yourself_. We both should.”

“C’mon. Don’t start sayin’ things like that when I already made you curry!”

“Is that what this is?” Hanzo glanced down into the pot and prodded at one of the lumps, “Curry?”

“Well, it’s… supposed to be. It’s harder than it looks.” Jesse admitted, scratching at the back of his neck.

For once, _finally_ , Hanzo smiled up at him, “…If you mix water into the flour before adding it to the pot, it reduces the chance of clumping. It is something to keep in mind for next time… though this was a valiant first attempt. Your spice blend smells… like home. It reminds me of a restaurant that my brother and I used to frequent, when I was a pup.”

Hot damn – he actually did it! He reminded Hanzo of home… Surely, forgoing sleep was the right decision. This was a major victory.

“Well then, that settles it. I’ll start over, and you’ll have curry for dinner tonight. Go on and sit down, Darlin’,” he requested, daring to revert back to old terms of endearment, now that Hanzo seemed to trust him - at least a little, “I’ll get started on a second batch.”

Suddenly, stunning him like a flashbang, Hanzo placed his hand on his arm. His touch was soft and warm – delicate and feather-light, despite his callouses. 

“No. You should rest. Take care to ensure that your wounds do not reopen.” 

“What about the curry? It’s… actually supposed to be my dinner too, you know? We had some frozen crap on the transport, but… I was still a little nauseous from Angie’s painkillers.”

“If you would like, McCree-san… _I_ can cook for the two of us.”

Inside of Jesse’s mind, he _screamed_ with excitement - fireworks, _exploding_ in a burst of sound and color. Pure, unbridled joy. …He had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from hollering.

“O-Only if it ain’t too much trouble,” he answered, feigning modesty, “By the way, do you want me to bring up the recipe?"

“That will not be necessary. …I was raised in a traditional household. Upon my presentation, my father arranged for me to be trained to be as… a house omega.”

…That night just kept getting better and better! _His_ Hanzo: a bona-fide, fully-trained house omega. The omega of his dreams: the center of his home, the mother of his pups -

“Guess my cookin’ can’t compare to yours then, huh?” Jesse laughed – his heart melting as Hanzo smiled back at him. 

“You should have more confidence in your abilities. …I enjoy your cooking – truly, I do. You are quite skilled… for an alpha.”

“ _For an alpha_.” Eager to test the boundaries of their familiarity, Jesse balled up one the napkins on the table and playfully chucked it at his dear companion. Hanzo just barely dodged, before kicking it back towards Jesse's feet. “Well, Mr. High n’ Mighty, since you’re obviously so much better than us bumblin’ alphas and betas… how do you think you compare to other omegas?”

“I am never second best.”

He said it with such natural confidence that Jesse couldn’t help but laugh. In that moment, Hanzo sounded more like an alpha than anything else, even when bragging about something as omegan as cooking. 

“We’ll see ‘bout that. My mamá was trained as a house omega, too – and she worked in a diner before she presented. She’ll really give you a run for your money.”

They made easy conversation as the night went on, with Hanzo, bragging about his skills and McCree, egging him on, _heaping on the praise_. It was impressive, watching Hanzo’s hands fly across the chopping board with lightning speed. To find a house omega, in this day and age… Jesse could hardly believe his luck.

“What is your opinion of your mother?” Hanzo asked out of nowhere, as he started spooning rice and curry into little, shallow bowls. “Do you… love her?”

“Yeah. ‘Course I do. That’s one hell of a question, though.”

“My father told me, many years ago, that there is no bond stronger than that between an omegan mother and their child. …I never believed him. I had always presumed that he was attempting to… placate me.”

“Well, he was right, actually: every alpha is a momma’s boy. But couldn’t you have figured that out from Genji?”

“My mother died when we were young.”

“ _Most_ omegan mothers die early,” McCree answered frankly, without bothering to apologize. This wasn’t the time for platitudes. No – now, more than ever, Hanzo needed his _sincerity_. “A lot of alphas forget that bein’ mates doesn’t end after that first heat. They forget to treat their omegas right.”

“Is your mother still alive? Did your father 'treat her correctly?'”

“Yeah, believe it or not. They went together like peas and carrots. It really hurt her when he died. ...She's hangin' in there, though. Hell, she’ll probably outlive the both of us. She survived two heart attacks and a stroke - not from stress or anything, she just… really loves her grits and butter.”

“Hm… It appears as though you know her well.”

“Like the back of my hand,” Jesse concurred, as Hanzo set a piping hot bowl of curry in front of him. It took every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from grabbing onto Hanzo’s wrist as he pulled away. When the man took a seat across from him, for a moment they only looked at each other – taking in each other’s scents, reading their body language… letting the minutes tick by in silence. Despite Hanzo's overly-masculine facial hair and grave expression, he was the loveliest sight he’d ever seen. 

“Why are you smiling?” the omega asked, finally.

“... _Your_ pups’ll love you, too, you know? No way in hell they wouldn’t. ...I know that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Hanzo glanced away from him, breaking their eye contact, as though he were ashamed of having his motives discovered so easily. 

“I… would not make a particularly good mother.”

“You’re wrong. You’re caring– kind of - even if you pretend you don’t give a shit. …I mean, here you are, takin’ care of a stranger, when he can’t even cook for himself.” 

“You and I are not ‘strangers,’ McCree-san.”

“Then quit callin’ me that. …Jesse’s fine. I mean it.”

“…Jesse.”

“That’s it, Darlin’. You don’t gotta be so prim around me – it’ll make me feel a lot less self-conscious when I start spillin’ curry all over myself. I always end up makin’ a mess in the kitchen, somehow.”

As he gave the curry a tentative little taste, he noticed Hanzo staring back at him – likely awaiting Jesse’s assessment of his skills as a homemaker. In truth… Jesse much preferred Genji’s recipe. Hanzo’s was likely more “proper” but… Genji put in pineapple and honey that added a touch of sweetness that Jesse always liked - not that he would ever admit as much, especially during this delicate phase of his relationship with Hanzo.

Insulting an omega’s cooking, after all, was worse than insulting his mother. 

“Darlin’,” he began, gazing at his companion with as much love as he could muster, “This is the best damn dinner I’ve ever had.”

“Is it?” Hanzo certainly perked up at that – “Good. That is… a great relief. I was afraid that I had fallen out of practice.”

“Well… maybe for the sake of practice, we ought to have these dinners more often. Maybe you can cook a couple, and we’ll switch off every now and then. We don’t have to do this every day, but… maybe once or twice a month, it can be just the two of us. What do you say?”

“I would enjoy that, Jesse.”

...And just like that, he knew that Hanzo was as good as his.


	11. Chapter 11

“You’re sendin’ me to St. Petersburg?” McCree complained with a less than thrilled affect, ignoring the scathing glare that Winston threw his way, "Weather’ll be in the single digits, most of the time..."

“Yes, well, I would hope that none of us joined Overwatch with the intention to sit around the fireplace, safe and cozy in our own homes.”

“Sure - and let me guess: it just so happens that you won't be joinin’ us.”

“As a matter of fact, _no_. I won’t be," Winston quipped, repressing a smile, "You already have a full party. Agents Song, Zhou, and Zaryanova are already waiting at the rendezvous point - and I will be sending Dr. Ziegler and Agent Shimada to accompany you. …I know that misery loves company.”

“Hold up… _Which Shimada are we talkin’ ‘bout, here?_ ” Jesse quipped within seconds, always eager to ask the important questions. From across the table, Angela groaned behind her coffee-stained manila folder. …He could practically imagine her rolling her eyes – not that a beta could ever understand the depths of an alpha's devotion. 

“It appears that it will be me,” Hanzo answered, instead, “According to my updated mission schedule, you and I will be travelling together again, Jesse. Look – ‘St. Petersburg.’” 

The little omega smiled up at him innocently... They’d started sitting together during conferences – a benefit and a hindrance, in many different ways. Hanzo's pheromones had, perhaps, been the major contributing factor to Jesse’s growing lack of focus. The omega's scent, heavy and saccharine, fractured his mind and clouded his judgement. He couldn’t stop thinking about it - about… that first, sweet _press_ into the warm body, lying pliant beneath him.

“Th-That’s great, Han,” he replied, shaking off the fantasy, “Hey - if we’re already goin’ all the way to Russia, we should take some time to explore the city, while we’re at it.”

“Wait -" Genji interrupted, "Winston, are you certain that this is a good idea? I feel as though my brother’s skill set would be better suited to the mission in Veracruz, assigned to myself, Pharah, and Reinhardt. We will need a sniper.”

Jesse dug his fingernails into the table so hard, they actually chipped… Genji could play the role of the "logical teammate" all he liked; he knew that this was sabotage. Somehow, at some point, Genji had realized that he'd lied that day on the shuttle: that he intended to snatch Hanzo away, right from under his nose.

“No, I think Han’s good with _us_ ,” Jesse countered, wasting no time at all, “Our mission’s gonna be more dangerous. We ain’t just movin’ some payload; we’re gonna be dealin’ with racial tensions against the omnic, here.”

Like an exasperated, old father, Winston called for order: “Settle down. I’ve already run plenty of simulations, and according to the data that Athena has propagated, Agent Shimada’s skills will best serve the St. Petersburg group.”

 _Excellent_. He was going on another mission with Hanzo! Every single one was cause for celebration, of course, but this one in particular, travelling to St. Petersburg, would require a few ‘extra preparations’ that Jesse was certain he could turn to his advantage. Omegas didn’t fare well in the cold, after all. Hanzo would require a new coat and extra nesting supplies… excellent opportunities for Jesse to display his skills as a potential mate. 

“Ready to brave the snow, pardner?” 

“Will the weather truly be so severe?”

Breaking up his conversation with Angela, Genji leaned forward over the table in what was clearly an attempt to disrupt McCree’s courting. “It’s a little worse than you would think it is, but I can order a new coat for you, Anija. Consider it one of the many belated birthday presents that I still owe to you.”

“Yeah - Hanzo won’t be needin’ that,” McCree countered with a smile, raising his voice to drown out Genji's, “We're only a half an hour walk from the city. Why don't we just buy one there? ...You ever been to a mall, Darlin’?” he asked the man by his side.

“A... shopping mall? No, I never purchased my own belongings; that was a task relegated to the family servants. And even after leaving Hanamura… I did not have time for leisure.”

“Well then, that settles it: I’ll show you what it’s like to shop around for yourself. We’ll go and get you a new coat along with anything else you need.” _Anything_. Hell, Jesse would have drained the entirety of his bank account – and gladly - if it would have earned him the privilege of keeping Hanzo company during his heats.

“If you are certain that this excursion will not pose an inconvenience to you, then… I would appreciate the opportunity to explore Gibraltar.”

“Great! Later on this afternoon sound fine? … _High noon_ , maybe?”

“You and your obsession…” Hanzo kicked him gently under the table… and Jesse swore his heart skipped a beat, right then and there. _This was it_. He would move on from providing food to providing _clothing_. Whether Hanzo would realize it or not, the man would begin to see him as a guardian. 

“It'll be fun: we can still make a day trip out of it! We can go grab lunch, watch a movie, wander around… just the two of us.”

____________________________

Hanzo arrived in front of his bedroom at exactly high noon, just as they’d agreed… though when Jesse invited him inside, for just a moment, his little omega hesitated.

“…Somethin’ wrong, Sweet Pea?”

“This is… your den. An _alpha’s_ den.”

“And I'm sayin' you can come in. It ain’t nothin’ special, really. Just make yourself comfortable. I just need to grab a few things before I’ll be good to go.”

As Jesse rifled through his closet, Hanzo tentatively made his approach, though his body language was defensive and overly-cautious. _Jumpy_. Jesse glanced over his shoulder and put on his best, most trustworthy smile -

“You want a sarsaparilla or somethin’? I have a couple in that mini-fridge right there. Go on, try some. It’s an American favorite!”

Out of curiosity, perhaps, Hanzo actually did as asked, popping open a can and settling himself down onto Jesse’s sofa. 

“Oh! It… It _smells_ …”

“You mean it smells _good_ ,” Jesse corrected with a casual laugh. After gathering up everything he needed, he threw himself down on the seat next to Hanzo – and nuzzled up so close that their arms were almost touching. Forgoing his usual combat armor, Hanzo was wrapped in an ornate kimono, soft and delicate. It was such a beautiful sight that Jesse almost couldn’t resist the urge to slide his hands beneath the fabric... “Sarsaparilla's been my favorite drink since I was a kid. I’m dyin’ to know what _you_ think.”

With a reluctant smile, Hanzo brought the can to his lips - though after a single sip, he tugged it away with a twisted _grimace_ , furiously shaking his head as though he’d just inhaled a fistful of smelling salts. “Ugh! It tastes like… medicine,” the omega hissed, setting the can aside, “...I apologize, Jesse, but I will not be able to finish this.”

“That’s fine,” the alpha laughed, picking up the discarded can from the tabletop and taking a sip from it, himself.

“Jesse, what are you doing?” Hanzo backed away, with his eyes, wide with disbelief. 

“...What?” 

“Sharing food and beverages with an omega is… very intimate. ...At least in Japan.”

“Is it? My bad. …Though I don’t really get what’s so taboo ‘bout combinin’ our spit or anything.”

As though amused by his casual explanation, Hanzo relaxed, leaning back against the cushions. “When you say it like that, I suppose that it does seem rather silly.”

“Hey, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I like your modesty; it’s… nice. Old-fashioned.” Jesse reached over for the parasol that he’d found in his closet. “Speakin’ ‘bout the old world, I got somethin' to show you. This was a present from my mamá, for whenever I’d go out with omegas. I don’t meant to get all ‘chivalrous’ on you, but she always taught me that a proper alpha protects his omega from the elements. I mean... it _is_ high noon, and all. Sunlight’s brightest at this time. …Now, if you don’t want me to hold this for you, I won’t - but the offer’s there if you’re into that kind of thing.”

"Do you believe that I am helpless?” Hanzo scoffed, clearly annoyed...

“No. _Hell_ , no - you could probably kick my ass to the moon and back. …But mamá would tan my hide if I didn't offer. …You and me are some of last relicts of ‘a bygone age,’ you know?” he explained, relaxing slightly when Hanzo’s posture lost that agitated edge, “When was the last time you let someone treat you with a little chivalry, Han? Let me do this for you. ...It’s just a parasol; no big deal,” Jesse _lied_ , knowing full well that Hanzo’s acceptance of this one act of chivalry would open the door to far more in the future.

“…Perhaps it would be nice,” the omega admitted with a reluctant smile, “I do burn rather easily. …Though I would ask you to wait until we have traveled some distance away from the watchpoint before you open it. I cannot risk the possibility of the others discovering my… condition.”

“No problem, Pumpkin. I'll follow your lead.”

As they packed up their things and left the room, walking down the hallways of the watchpoint together, they passed by a few of Overwatch's members - Mei and Lena watching TV, Reinhardt sleeping on the sofa... 

...Only Pharah dared to accost them - and in an isolated hallway, so none of the others could possibly interfere.

“Strange of you to bring an umbrella on your day trip, McCree,” she commented, “It’s beautiful outside. Well suited for a _fair-weathered friend_. …Tell me: have you really forgotten all about Genji so easily?”

Going for the old guilt trip; it was just like her.

“Genji’s an alpha, ain’t he?” Jesse snapped back, checking her accusatory tone, though all with a smile, so as not to frighten his companion, “Since when does he need me lookin’ out for him?”

“And since when did _Hanzo_ require your ‘special attention?’”

“How dare you address me by my first name?" the omega practically _growled_ , "You spit upon my honor.” 

“You _trample_ over your brother’s.” ...Hanzo's resolve wavered quickly as Pharah continued to berate him. “Have you apologized to him? ...Do you even have any idea how he felt when he woke up in that body? He questioned his own humanity... _You_ did that to him. Where was your ‘honor’ then - your sense of duty? And even after you had the gall to come crawling back to him, your promises are empty. Here you are, spending more time with _McCree_ than your own brother. What are you even hoping to accomplish here in Overwatch? You speak about redemption and reconciliation, but all that I have ever seen you doing is waiting for the chance to jump on his _knot_ -”

“That’s enough!” Jesse stepped in front of her, shielding Hanzo from her verbal barrage. “Pickin’ on a fuckin’ omega. That’s low, even for your self-righteous ass - talkin’ like your own shit don’t stink.”

“I have the distinct feeling that if our _Hanzo_ were to attack his brother again, for ‘certain reasons’ that you and I both know, you wouldn’t think any less of him. …Would you?”

“Han wouldn’t do that. He ain’t the type of man you think he is.” Jesse's postured turned aggressive, making it clear that any further argument would likely devolve into a brawl.

Sighing, Pharah gave in, likely unwilling to start such a public fight in her own home. “…So that’s your final decision, then? You would side with an omega that you barely know over your friends who have loved and supported you for years?”

“To be honest, Pharah… you ain’t lookin’ too ‘friendly’ right now.” At that final comment, he couldn’t tell whether she looked more hurt, angry… or disappointed. 

“Fine. But don’t come to me when you finally realize what a terrible mistake you’ve made.” Without another word, she stormed away, leaving him alone with Hanzo, still standing behind him, frozen in horror -

“You okay, Pumpkin?”

A weaker man would have wept, but Hanzo just… stood there, staring down the hallway at Pharah’s retreating silhouette. 

“...She is not entirely incorrect,” he admitted, when she finally pushed past the door leading outside, “I have been avoiding my brother. Avoiding him… in preference of spending time with _you_.”

It had been true, obviously - but Jesse had never expected him to actually admit it.

“Why do you think you’ve been doin’ that?” he asked, taking a seat against the wall – and giving Hanzo room to do the same. 

“I... am afraid to face the reality of what I have done. Beneath his mask, my brother has so many scars.” The omega looked up at him, as though seeking forgiveness – or perhaps only judgment. “Many years ago, the elders of my clan told me that if eliminated Genji as an obstacle, then… the fact that I had presented as an omega would become irrelevant. My birthright and my honor would be returned to me. ...But what I failed to notice was that there could never have been any honor in such an inherently _dis_ honorable act; nothing positive could have ever arisen from betraying the only person who had ever cared for me. I told myself that I had killed him due to pride and ambition... but it was worse. Far worse. In truth, Jesse... I betrayed my brother due to nothing more than cowardice. I could not bear to live the rest of my life as an omega. I was attempting to run away from what I was. From what I… still am.”

“You had your reasons.”

“I was… so _stupid_.”

Daring to take a risk, Jesse wrapped his arm around the omega’s shoulders, holding him close. “Hey... You're not stupid. Everybody makes mistakes - and it ain't like you can't make up for it. Genji’s okay. He made it - and so did you.”

“Silver tongued… How is it that you always know what to say?” In a rare moment of weakness – or perhaps even loneliness – Hanzo leaned against Jesse’s shoulder and allowed the alpha to support him. “Somehow, despite everything... you make me feel ‘good enough.’”

________________________________________________

Like a proper, old-fashioned couple, they walked down the delicately paved, polished walkways of the outdoor shopping mall – with Hanzo, shielded from the glaring midday sunlight. He looked so beautiful, huddled beneath that little parasol... Though his companion likely didn’t notice, all around them, single alphas gawked and stared, wondering, surely, how an alpha as “uncivilized” as McCree could have ever earned the right to court an omega like Hanzo. 

“Before we left,” the omega began, as they turned the corner towards the clothing shops, “Genji handed me a coupon book. This one states that if we make use of it, we can save… ‘twenty percent or more.’”

“...Can I see that, Han?”

The moment Hanzo handed him the flyer, Jesse tore it up and dumped it right into the garbage. 

“Jesse, what are you doing?!”

“We ain’t gettin’ you a discount coat, Sweet Pea. You deserve designer clothes. Name brand stuff.”

“…I have one hundred and twenty pounds remaining in my pouch,” the omega replied, deadpan.

“And I have… a _credit card_ ,” Jesse announced, tugging the little piece of plastic out of his pocket, “Max on this thing is twenty-thousand US, so we’ll be good to go. We can get you a nice coat, new shoes, accessories, hell - _anything_ you want. And after that... the hotel next door has a ‘high tea’ dessert buffet. You want cakes, Sweetheart? I can buy it for you. Ain't no trouble at all.”

“Are you earnestly suggesting that we spend twenty-thousand dollars on frivolous food and clothing?”

“You bet I am!” When the omega only sighed, unamused, Jesse placed his hand on his shoulder and shook. “When was the last time you treated yourself to _anything_? How have you been survivin’ the past ten years on the run? What did you eat? Where did you sleep?”

“There were… omega’s shelters that I -”

“Omega’s shelters that probably gave out discount clothes just like the crap your brother wants to buy. Well, you’re better than that. Spoil yourself a little, Han. Ain’t you tired of feelin’ like a criminal? Wouldn’t you rather feel like _her_?” Jesse asked, pointing at one of the billboard advertisements. An omegan woman, dressed in a fine fur coat, stood confidently in the center of a crowd while a horde of alphas begged and scraped beneath her. 

“…Are you implying that I would ever act so indecently?”

“C’mon – I’m not bein’ literal, here. I’m just sayin’ that every omega deserves to feel beautiful once in a while. …Hell, _you_ deserve to feel beautiful _all the damn time_.”

“Jesse…” Clearly feeling pressured, Hanzo averted his eye contact… though in the end, he relented, just as Jesse had always believed he would. “Very well - but only the coat. I do not require luxury shoes or... ‘bags.’”

As they walked past the cheaper stores and into the luxury wing of the mall, where clothes and accessories could cost more than two month’s salary for a majority of alphas, Jesse knew that it was his time to shine.

“Look at that bracelet," Hanzo commented, peering through the windows, "It is priced at… almost fifteen hundred pounds.”

“Don’t tell me you never had stuff like this when you were a pup. Weren’t you a prince, or somethin’?”

“We were yakuza… It was nothing so glamorous,” he corrected, “My family lived well, certainly, but… we never flaunted our wealth on useless trinkets such as this. We invested in weapons and training. We invested in _ourselves_.”

“That sounds dull,” Jesse teased, dragging his companion into the nearest shop. He had only just managed to rifle through the racks for a single minute before a small team of shopkeepers crowded around him, likely wondering what a man as disheveled as McCree was doing in their store.

“May we help you, sir?”

“Yeah, actually you can. I’m lookin’ for somethin’ nice for _my omega_ over there.” Oh, that was it… The magic words. 

“Oh... an omega, I see. _Welcome_ , sir!” the leader greeted, all cheerful smiles aimed at Hanzo… “What kind of style are you looking for today? We have something to suit the tastes of every omega.”

“...I do not require all of this attention. I can look for myself. I just –”

“We’ll need somethin’ practical,” Jesse answered, taking charge on his behalf, “We’ll be goin’ on a trip to Russia soon, so somethin’ warm would be better. None of that ‘fake pocket’ crap, either.”

“Something masculine,” Hanzo added, now that Jesse had already made the first request, “I would prefer black, though a dark blue would also be acceptable.”

“Is there a theme that you would like?”

“ _Dragons_.” …No hesitation there. Jesse bit down on his inner cheek to hold back his laughter... 

As ridiculous as Hanzo's request had been, as testament to their professionalism, the team scattered like one of his arrows, returning mere minutes later with a single jacket.

“Here is one of the selections from our winter collection," the salesman explained, "It was originally designed for alphas, but an omega of such discerning taste could effortlessly make this look his own!”

“These seams are sublime,” Hanzo commented, running his fingers over the thread, “Not a single stitch out of place. And these patterns. …How much does this cost?”

“Four-thousand five-hundred pounds.”

The omega froze, staring down at the jacket - before he glanced back at Jesse, silently pleading. 

…Well, at the very least, Jesse _thought_ that he was pleading. In truth, Hanzo could have simply wanted to leave, or perhaps he thought that the salespeople were trying to swindle them. He was a difficult omega to read, at times. Even so... it was better to play it safe than sorry. “We’ll buy it,” Jesse insisted.

“What? But Jesse, this is -”

“Excellent!” the shopkeeper answered, clearly excited to make a sale - and effortlessly maneuvering around Hanzo’s uncertainty, “And what about you, sir? Would you care to see the matching trousers?”

Hanzo froze mid-complaint to shift his attention entirely on the salesman – “There are… _matching trousers_?”

“There are - and I feel as though they would suit your aesthetic _perfectly_.”

One of the saleswomen brought it out for them, holding it to the gentle light…

“Jesse, look!” Hanzo remarked, with more excitement than he’d ever seen from the man before, “There is a dragon… on the _backside_. A _golden_ dragon…” 

“Shit, it’s… _huge_.” Practically hovering over Hanzo’s shoulder, Jesse couldn’t help but trace his finger over the pattern, “Well, what do you think? …You want it, Sweetheart?”

“I-I know that I mentioned earlier that I only intended to purchase the coat, but… it _is_ a matching set.”

“Then it's yours,” he reassured, rubbing gently at his omega’s shoulders, silently encouraging him, “This is _your_ party, Han. Anything you want, you'll get.”

____________________________

…As they sat at the dessert buffet, located in a _five-star hotel_ , of all things, Hanzo looked over at the empty chairs at their table – loaded with _his_ shopping bags – and felt… _ashamed_. Ashamed that he had lost control of his inhibitions the moment that they’d left that store. Ashamed that he hadn’t protested when Jesse insisted to browse through the others. He’d purchased boots, a backpack, gloves, a ridiculous platinum bracelet –

Twenty thousand pounds. _Gone_. 

It had felt so natural… Purchasing those ridiculous dragon pants opened the floodgates to something _more_. Something… much, _much_ more.

As silly as it sounded, he felt _important_ , for once in his life. He felt like… a little treasure - and, strangely enough, Hanzo found that it was enough for him; he could have been satisfied feeling the way he did at that moment for the rest of his life.

…Perhaps that was what omegas loved so much about their alphas, he considered. Omegas were so downtrodden, so underappreciated, so unloved, that to be the center of a person’s life, even if it was only a single alpha, was something remarkable. That small achievement, in comparison to all of the misery they endured, was a breath of fresh air after decades spent struggling beneath the tide.

It was a validation of his humanity. A recognition of the fact that he, too, had dreams and desires of his own. That _he_ was worth something. And yet… his pride struggled against that realization every step of the way.

“…Jesse?”

“What’s up, Han? Did you eat too much?”

_He did._

Stacks upon stacks of tiny plates. Most omegas would have at least feigned modesty, but Hanzo just… dug in. He sighed, staring down at the miniature cheesecake in front of him…

“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it!” Jesse laughed, pushing his own plate of half-eaten cheesecake closer to Hanzo. “You eat all you want, Sweet Pea. There is plenty more where that came from!”

“Jesse, I must… apologize.” He finally managed to express, drowning in his own shame... and clearly, in empty calories as well.

“Apologize for what?”

“I spent all of your money on useless trinkets. We should return these items – and I insist upon paying for my half of this ‘meal.’ …I do not know force what overcame me. I am so ashamed of my behavior this afternoon.”

“Stop that. You just _stop that_. …It was a pleasure to spend that money on you. Hell, it’s a pleasure takin’ care of you in general. Even when I’m cookin’ breakfast for you at 5 AM. Even when I’m soakin’ up bullets for you. …And even when your face is covered in powdered sugar.” With the kindest smile that Hanzo had ever seen, Jesse leaned over the table and wiped at his cheek.

Somewhere deep within him, some strange, primal voice stirred, quietly whispering… _“I wonder if this alpha would be just as kind to our pups…”_

“You’re _great_ , Han. A great man… and a great omega. Keep those clothes and wear ‘em to Russia. Flaunt your bracelet. …And go have more food - seriously! It’s all you can eat, so there ain’t any reason we shouldn’t be gettin’ our money’s worth.”

“…What about diabetes?”

“They have medicine for that. C’mon - forget it, Pumpkin. Live a little. Enjoy yourself!”

With his heart racing, Hanzo reached not for his own plate, but for Jesse’s – and finished off the rest of the alpha’s half-eaten cheesecake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now featuring fantastic art from f-rei-geist! 
> 
> https://f-rei-geist.tumblr.com/post/170981590564/somehow-despite-everything-you-make-me-feel


	12. Chapter 12

With Jesse en route to St. Petersburg, dinner was surprisingly quiet, for once... though Genji couldn't quite say it was "pleasant." It had become apparent to him, after all, that the “cowboy” was surely planning something immoral, if not entirely nefarious. He dreaded to think what the man was doing to Hanzo at that very moment. Recently, though Genji had tried his best to hide his growing animosity, it had overflowed and burst out at times. Even at the dinner table, the tension between them was positively palpable.

Regardless of his master’s teachings, how could he hold himself back, when it could no longer be denied that Jesse McCree was courting his brother? …And that Hanzo was actively encouraging it?

His brother had begun to join them for meals, always sitting beside Jesse with that star-struck expression on his face, as though the cowboy had parted the Red Sea, just for him. Despite his fears, he’d tried to be sensitive. He hadn’t said anything to Hanzo just yet, though he’d written multiple drafts of the planned “intervention” he would hold, when the time was right. …He only had to find a way to say it kindly. After all, it wasn’t as though Genji was so oblivious, so black-hearted, that he couldn’t understand how Hanzo felt. Jesse was the first alpha who had truly paid attention to him. It was the closest that his brother had ever gotten to forming a legitimate relationship. Jesse was his first true friend. His first… love. 

The situation had become so severe that Genji could no longer shield his eyes and plug his ears. He had to call it what it was: his brother was slowly falling in love with an alpha who could barely see past his anatomy. He was just too inexperienced to see it. McCree didn’t love Hanzo; he loved the _concept_ of Hanzo. The picture of an untouched, traditional omega who lived and breathed for his alpha. 

Genji was certain that Jesse didn’t know anything about his brother, save for the fact that he was omegan. 

He didn’t know that sometimes, Hanzo snorted when he laughed, or that he was the fiercely competitive type and always threw a fit when he lost at shogi – which was too bad because he was terrible at it. McCree didn’t know that one time, a ladybug had flown into Hanzo’s natto, and he hadn’t noticed until he’d already bitten into it - and that he’d been repulsed by insects ever since.

His brother had his quirks, even beneath that perfect exterior. Hanzo was so vibrant. So full of life. …And Jesse didn’t care about any of it.

_…What was he going to do?_

…Even if Hanzo would hate him for the rest of his life, Genji knew that it was his duty as the omega’s guardian… and as his best friend and his brother, to protect him from own misguided desires. He hadn’t been able to save Hanzo from Higuchi all those years ago, but this time… Genji swore that he would stop Jesse and snap his brother back into reality if it was the last thing he ever did.

“Hey, Genji – you feelin’ alright, man? You don’t look so good,” Lúcio commented, breaking the tense and uncomfortable silence.

“No,” he answered honestly, “No, my friend. I am… deeply troubled. Winston, I am sorry for the short notice, but I cannot accompany my team on the mission to Veracruz. I need to go to St. Petersburg. I _must_ go.”

“St. Petersburg? What is this about?” It made sense that Winston wouldn’t be able to connect the dots. As intelligent as he was, after all, nobody but an experienced alpha or omega could possibly understand the nuances of a traditional courtship.

Genji straightened his back and prepared himself for what would likely be the most awkward conversation of his life. “…I need to protect my brother.”

“No offense, Love, but I think you need to protect the _payload_ ,” Lena scolded, though with her usual, playful tone, “I know that you just reunited and everything, but… your brother’s tough as nails. I think he _stepped_ on a nail the other day and didn’t even flinch. Believe me when I say that Hanzo can look out for himself.”

“He can’t. Not now. …Not against Jesse.”

“What’s Jesse got to do with it? I mean, I know he’s been acting a little _batty_ , lately, but I don’t think he’s going to hurt anybody,” Lena continued, drawing attention to the elephant in the room. Jesse barely slept, nowadays. He’d drained his bank account and had started asking around for loans. …Something was wrong. The betas just couldn’t put the pieces together. “…And he definitely wouldn’t hurt _Hanzo_ ; the two of them are thick as thieves!”

“…That is the problem,” Genji admitted with an exasperated sigh, as he finally realized that for Hanzo’s own safety, he couldn’t keep his secret any longer. “Everybody… I have something important to tell you.”

Immediately, all other conversation silenced. Even Reinhardt leaned in, curious. 

“My brother is an omega.”

“…So?” Lena drawled, as though he hadn’t said anything meaningful at all. Genji couldn’t help but smile, endlessly pleased by her easy acceptance of this new truth. If only the entire world could have been so nonchalant about omegas in general, perhaps his brother would have never gotten into this mess in the first place. …Perhaps they would still be in Hanamura, just the two of them against the world.

“Oh, wait, I get it!” she exclaimed, her voice growing louder and louder – “Jesse’s sweet on your brother! That explains everything! The food, the clothes… he’s in love with Hanzo!”

“Didn’t he max out his credit card buyin’ that stuff? Oh, that is just _sad_. No man should _ever_ be that desperate!” Lúcio remarked, snickering, “Genji, I get that it’s awkward when your best friend’s dating your brother, but it ain’t that big of a deal. Let them love! …Maybe we can try setting them up. Two tickets to a concert and dinner sounds good!”

“This is not a laughing matter,” Pharah scolded, though she quickly changed her tone, knowing that betas could never truly understand the implications behind Jesse’s actions, “As much as I do not approve of Hanzo’s presence here… I must admit that this time, he needs our aid. Jesse is manipulating him. I have come to realize that. He is… taking advantage of Hanzo’s nature as an omega.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lena asked, as though Pharah was speaking a different language altogether.

“Regardless of their social advances over the years, omegas are naturally drawn to building nests and forming families. They have hoarding behaviors; they seek out providers and guardian figures.”

“I don’t see Hana doin’ any of that,” Lúcio remarked, naturally skeptical.

“It is not a guarantee – just… an inclination. A person can always overcome their nature. But the longer we have all been working together with Hanzo, the more I’ve gotten the feeling that… he doesn’t seem to have the capacity for that kind of independence.” 

“My brother was raised very traditionally,” Genji agreed, though only reluctantly. He didn’t approve of the way Pharah spoke of his brother, and yet, at the very least, he could count on her as an ally for now. “Even when we were children, Hanzo was punished harshly for any form of rebellion. As the heir at the time, he was expected to carry himself with honor and dignity. _Always_. There was no time for fun. No room for independence. Eventually, my brother stopped rebelling, altogether. He only ever did as he was told.”

“He’s falling back to that default, omegan way of thinking,” Pharah sighed, “It’s probably what’s easiest for him.”

Lena just looked at her as though she were insane… “Sure, but what if that’s just his personality, Pharah? He’s _happy_ when he’s with Jesse. I don’t see why we have to butt in.” 

“I know that it look like Jesse is helping him, but believe me when I say that he has not been doing so out of the goodness of his heart. I don’t think that he even cares for Hanzo at all. What he’s doing is performing traditional alpha courting behaviors. It’s similar to… when a bird does a little dance for another bird its never seen before. It isn’t about love, Tracer; it’s about capturing a mate. Maybe that was how things worked two hundred years ago, but alphas should know better now. That isn’t any way to treat somebody. I… still cannot say that I particularly like Hanzo, but even he does not deserve to be manipulated into an alpha’s den.”

“…You really don’t think Jesse cares about him?” 

“I don’t. And despite everything… I agree that Genji should go to St. Petersburg.”

“But what about the Veracruz team?” Winston asked.

“I’ll go instead,” Lena volunteered, “After all… Genji’s got a brother to save – and I got a lecture for Jesse the second he gets back here.”


	13. Chapter 13

_“Hanzo-chan? Hanzo! Are you alright?”_

...Hanzo sat in the garden, slowly stirring awake under his father’s insistent shaking. The rain had soaked through his kimono, chilling him down to the bone.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I was just… tired.” He was _always_ tired, nowadays – and yet, his body, seemingly possessed by a will of its own, couldn’t calm itself long enough to fall asleep at night. His mind was haunted by nightmares and plagued with uncertainty. 

This was the first time he’d managed to rest at all in three days time.

“Did you actually sleep through the rain?” Sojiro asked with disbelief, “What is the matter with you? Hurry and come inside before you catch a cold. Omegas have low body temperatures; you are already more susceptible to illness than alphas and betas. A simple cold could become pneumonia or even sepsis if you do not take care of yourself.”

He was right. Even a mild illness, to an omega, could be a death sentence.

“…Would you take me to a hospital if I fell ill?” Hanzo asked without budging from his spot, leaning against a decorative boulder as the gentle drizzle fell around him.

“What are you talking about?” his father asked in a gentle whisper, all love and concern… despite the fact that Hanzo no longer believed that he cared for him in the slightest, “Of course I would.”

“They charge omegas for extra accommodations, do they not? Heated beds and blankets. Private rooms. …It would be expensive.” 

“Is that what you are worried about? That would not matter in the slightest. It is only money, of which I have plenty. I only have two sons.”

“One," he corrected, "…You have one son.”

“Hanzo -”

What was the point of petty platitudes, now? His father could say whatever he wanted; he had shown, through his _actions_ , that Hanzo was no longer a priority to him. “You have said so yourself countless times. The fact that I am suffering now does not that change that. Pray tell: if I am not your son… then who I am, to you? _What_ am I?”

“You are… my charge. My little treasure. So many alphas forget that we are nothing without omegas. Though you are no longer my heir, though you may no longer share my name, you are still so very important to me. I hope that you never forget that.”

“…Then may I request something of you, Shimada-kumichō?”

“Very well,” Sojiro relented, wrapping his haori around Hanzo’s little shoulders. He was so frail, now that he’d stopped his combat training. “What do you wish of me?”

“If you had ever cared for me in the slightest, if you had ever thought of me as your son for a single moment in your life… then if I fall ill, _Otou-sama_ … I want you to let me die.”

“By the gods, Hanzo – never speak like that again!” Scooping him up, Sojiro carried the omega back inside, despite his protests. “You have been blessed with life – and it is your duty to make the most of it. …What can I get for you instead, hm? What can I do to cheer you up? I know: how about… a nice, hot bath? And afterwards, perhaps I could recruit Genji and your teacher, and we could all play a game of mahjong. As many games as you’d like. I will even cancel your training for tonight. …How does that sound?”

“Whether or not I am ‘trained’ is irrelevant. Even the worst pain is fleeting… and this body is only a shell.”

“It is a _temple_ ,” Sojiro corrected, delicately tucking his hair behind his ear, “A temple at which your alpha will worship. I know that you no longer trust me… but I promise that someday, you will find an alpha who will adore each and every part of you. He will provide for you a home and family… and you will feel so silly for ever thinking the way that you do now.”

“…Is that all that I will have in my life? An alpha?”

“You speak as though that means so little!” his father chuckled, “A mated alpha and omega share a special bond; you will understand when you take a mate of your own. He will become the center of your world. The stars themselves will revolve around him. You will look at him and feel such joy that you will thank the gods for creating you the way that they did: as an omega. …Your alpha will be strong and kind, selfless and honorable - and most importantly of all, he will be yours. Your partner. Your knight in shining armor. I know that you feel like little more than a slave, now… but someday, you will be an alpha’s _prince_.”

His father didn’t understand him at all. He didn’t want to be some helpless omegan princess, waiting for somebody to save him. Stubbornly, Hanzo pushed himself out of his father’s grasp and limped slowly towards his bedroom, where he would do what he always did when he had a moment to himself. …Absolutely nothing. He wouldn’t talk. He wouldn’t move… Hanzo wouldn’t even take a breath until his body was desperately screaming for air.

After all, whether he lived or died simply didn’t matter. His father was wrong - and nobody could ever love a wretch like him.

________________________________________

…It may as well have happened yesterday; the memory was so vivid. Listlessly, Hanzo stared out the window of Overwatch’s transport - though a sudden touch on the back of his neck brought him back into reality. 

_Jesse._

“I know you ain’t really a coffee kind of guy, so I made you a cup of tea, instead. It ain’t nothin’ fancy – it’s just the bagged crap - but I did dig around in the box for the nicest, fattest lookin’ one there was.”

“The proper etiquette would have been to select the very first teabag that you touched. Sorting through the box spreads bacteria,” Hanzo scolded, though when he looked up at the alpha’s earnest expression… he found that he couldn’t bring himself to truly be angry, or annoyed, or… anything but comforted by the warmth of his sincerity. 

“I was wearin’ gloves!” Jesse retorted, wiggling his fingers in front of Hanzo’s face… knowing full well that his glove was likely dirtier than the bottom of his chronically muddy boots. Shameless as it was, the alpha’s confidence managed to be charming, regardless. 

Though he knew that he shouldn’t have encouraged such uncouth behavior, Hanzo took the cup without further complaint. “Thank you, Jesse.” 

“Hey, my pleasure.” The cowboy – _his_ cowboy – slid into the seat beside him and leaned over his shoulder to look out the window. Immediately, Hanzo’s senses were overwhelmed by the scent of smoke and sandalwood - distinct, even beneath Jesse’s usual cloud of cheap tobacco. 

In a way, it was… nice. He felt safe when he was with Jesse - especially like this: boxed up against the wall with the cowboy, hovering over him. His father had said, long ago, when they moved him from his spacious bed chambers into a tiny servant’s room, that omegas preferred tight quarters. He hadn’t believed him at the time, but… perhaps there was actually some truth to what he said. With Jesse’s body blocking off the rest of the world, Hanzo felt strangely secure.

After all, Jesse had already proven, time and again, that he would gladly take a bullet, a knife, a _grenade_ for him. He was a good teammate. A good guardian. 

...His knight in shining armor.

“Just look at those clouds,” the alpha remarked with wonder, “You know, when I was a pup in Santa Fe, I never would’ve thought I’d be able to fly around like this… and never with an omega like you.”

“An… ‘omega like me?’”

“Hell, an omega _in general_.” Jesse sighed, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip from his mug of strong, black coffee. “…You know how omegas are dyin’ out? Well, the situation’s worse in the US than anywhere else. Some scientist ‘bout fifty years ago invented this machine that let people test for the way their kids would present before they were born. It was supposed to be so that parents could start preparin’ for an omega’s needs ahead of time, but… people are stupid. You know? …They started usin’ that machine to pick and choose their pups, and, well, the rest is history. The president we had a while back outlawed it, but the damage had already been done. We only got a handful of omegas left, and the ones we _do_ have know how valuable they are – so they all got their heads in the clouds and get all spoiled latchin’ onto… rich, old assholes and movie stars. …I never thought I’d be able to find an omega who’d even look at me. ‘Specially not one as down to earth as you are; I mean, you are really somethin' else. Dignified, responsible, dutiful… you never see that anymore. And on top of that… you’re beautiful, Han. You’re _so_ beautiful I can't turn away.”

Jesse reached up to cup his jaw, stroking his thumb gently over his cheek – the touch, soft and feather-light. It made him feel… _precious_.

Currently, while he remained on Overwatch’s mission roster, he was prescribed a standardized suppressant regimen by Dr. Zielger. At first, he’d thought that medication a boon – something that he would never want to discontinue, regardless of its side effects: the possibilities of blood clots, the cramps, the migraines. It didn’t matter. Though he would always smell like an omega, at the very least, he would never be forced to suffer through another heat: liquid fire rushing through his bloodstream, the weakness, the pain, the _desperation_ to be filled and ravaged.

It was intolerable. 

Hanzo hated the feeling of losing control. 

…But now, his circumstances had changed so much that he had actually considered restarting his heats for good. In the quiet of the early mornings, while he stood beneath the warm, steady stream of his shower, he would think about what it would be like to be bonded to Jesse. If they were mates, then they would always be together. Despite his stoic façade, in truth… Hanzo had been lonely for as long as he could remember. He never had any friends. His mother died, his father betrayed him – and now his relationship with Genji was in shambles. 

All Hanzo had was Jesse - though the omegan part of him would argue, when he was alone in the dark, that he needed nothing else. At the center of every omega’s life was Alpha. It was the way it always had been, the way it was, and the way it always would be – even for an omega as cold as him.

He looked down at the little cup of green tea that Jesse had made and wondered who else would ever do that for him. Who else would think of him as often and as fondly as Jesse did? Who else in the world could possibly care? He was lucky to find Jesse… and he would be stupid to waste this opportunity. Gathering his courage, Hanzo tugged on the alpha’s serape.

“Jesse, when we return to Gibraltar… would you care to watch over me during my heat?”

The alpha’s eyes went wide – though they soon crinkled in the corners as a warm, gentle smile, bright as the sun, spread over his face. Hanzo didn’t think he could ever see so much unrestrained joy in another human being.

“ _Yes_! Fuck, yes!” Jesse shouted, positively _bursting_ with excitement - though he quickly managed to reign it in, blushing beet red as he quietly coughed into his fist. “I mean… I-If that’s what you want, Sweet Pea. Just… gimme a few days to scout out a couple restaurants. See what kind of reservations I can make. Gotta wine and dine you first, you know? And I’ll need a bit of time to clean out my den. I’ll get rid of that ratty ol’ couch and bring in somethin’ nice for you. _Leather_.”

“I rather like your current couch,” Hanzo remarked, though with a bit of omegan pride regarding the fact that Jesse would have bothered to change anything for him at all. “It suits you.”

“Y-Yeah? Well… great! That’s great! I’ll just stock up on supplies. Heats last… two days, yeah? We’ll need our own food and water.”

“I can bring the stove and rice cooker from Genji,” Hanzo offered… though strangely enough, Jesse’s enthusiasm seemed to wane at that statement. 

“Pumpkin, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I actually think it’d be better if you got rid of that stuff.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Well, those’re gifts from an alpha.”

“I do not understand what you are attempting to imply,” Hanzo argued with growing discomfort, “Genji is my _brother_.”

“I-I ain’t implyin’ anything! It’s just… I know it’s stupid, and it makes me look like a caveman, but alpha scents tend to stick around, you know? I don’t want to be smellin’ another alpha in our nest – even if it’s Genji. Those pheromones make me feel uneasy; I can’t help it. Even if I know it ain’t the truth, some part of my alpha brain ends up worryin’ that we got an intruder wanderin’ around. I won't be able to relax.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That is positively ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I know. …I know it is. I’m sorry.”

“…You do not have to apologize,” Hanzo reassured the man, taken aback by the sudden, despondent look on his face, “It is only biology, I suppose. It is what it is.”

Jesse sighed with relief, literally slumping back down into his seat. “Thanks for understandin’, Darlin’. I’ll go buy us our own stove. Okay? I can handle all the details. …I just want you to be comfortable.”

With that, the alpha unwrapped his serape and wrapped it around Hanzo’s shoulders, enveloping him in his scent. At that moment, the transport and everything in it just... faded away. The world was comprised of only the two of them, sitting together in their little corner.

“Then I shall be entrusting myself to you, Alpha. ...Please take care of me from now on.” After giving his alpha the proper greeting and a traditional bow, Hanzo looked up into his eyes and saw nothing short of the loyalty and adoration he had always craved. 

________________________________________

Ignoring the curious glances thrown his way, Genji sat in the airport terminal, twiddling his thumbs… 

With Overwatch’s limited resources, Winston couldn’t spare a transport for him - so Genji had done the best that he could, booking a ticket on a last-minute flight. …But of course, as was common with commercial travelling, everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. The flight out of Gibraltar had been late due to the fact that they couldn’t locate the pilot. Genji had missed his layover in London, and now he had to wait overnight, stranded in the airport, for a morning replacement flight. ...Worst of all, he’d gotten stuck in coach, sitting directly in the middle of a _middle row_ located in front of the bathrooms - though in truth, he would have sat in a cage or a shipping container if it would only get him to Hanzo.

Bringing out his phone, he scowled down at the little screen as he realized that he hadn't received a single text. He’d sent multiple messages to both his brother and Angela, but for some reason, they didn’t respond. He hoped that there wasn’t something jamming their communications. ...Though more likely, Angela was simply busy with her work - and perhaps Hanzo was merely confused, _again_ , regarding how to use the phone that Jesse had purchased for him. His brother was so old fashioned, so bad with technology, that a simple phone may as well have been a nuclear reactor. 

_‘Anija,’_ he texted, with proper spelling and grammar, knowing full well that Hanzo would admonish him if he didn’t, _‘There has been a change of plans, and I will be joining you in St. Petersburg, after all! Please message me back when you have the chance. The following is a list of instructions on how to send a text, in case you have forgotten: touch the little white bar that says “message.” It is located at the bottom of the screen. Touch the letters in order to write. In order to start a new word, press “space.” In order to start a new paragraph, press “return.” In order to send the message when you are finished, press the circle with the arrow on it, located next to the “message” bar. Thank you!’_

He stared down at the text before signing it–

_‘With much love from Genji.’_

________________________________________

When their transport touched down in St. Petersburg, the rest of their team was already there, waiting to greet them. 

“…Do you recognize them?” Jesse asked, still sitting by his side with his arm, wrapped securely around his hips, “I know you’ve already met Mei, but the other two are Zarya and Hana. They’re famous, in certain circles. Zarya, the one with pink hair, was pretty big with the weightliftin’ crowd, and Hana’s a star… _videogamer_ , or whatever; apparently those’re more popular than you’d think.”

“I was never fond of professional athletics… or videogames.”

Jesse only chuckled, rubbing at his back in slow, soothing circles that made him shiver under the alpha’s touch… “Yeah, didn’t think you’d be. You’re a little more serious than that, huh?”

“Do you believe that I am overly formal?”

“Well, a little – but I like it. It’s dignified. …Like a classic omega from the old days, you know? The ones that look like little dolls. Like they’re so damn beautiful, us ugly ol’ alphas and betas ain’t even good enough to talk to ‘em.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Hanzo asked, unable to hide his concern. 

“Well, _yeah_. I mean, compared to you, I’m dirty, and scruffy, and… hell, I know I ain’t as fancy as the alphas you had courtin’ you in Japan.”

Was that it? Was Jesse only afraid that he wasn’t good enough for him? …That was so _endearing_ that Hanzo couldn’t help but smile, leaving his worries behind. “I think that you are perfectly handsome just as you are, Jesse.”

As they stepped off of the shuttle and into the airport proper, the girl, the one Jesse had called "Hana" sprinted up to him and leapt into his arms – 

“Hey cowboy!” she practically shouted, “Here I thought you forgot all about me. I thought I’d be stranded here alone _forever_.”

“You had me,” Zarya insisted.

“Yeah, but you had _Mei_. Being the third wheel sucks.”

“Hey, c’mon, quit poutin’,” Jesse scolded, practically peeling Hana off of him, “I got somebody I want you to meet. Hana, Zarya, this is the new member everyone’s been talkin’ ‘bout. …This is Hanzo.”

“ _Shimada_ ,” he responded mere milliseconds afterwards, “I am to be addressed… as Shimada-san.”

“Wow, I like you already…” Hana muttered with dripping sarcasm, though the longer they stood there… the more Hanzo realized something _off_ about her – and the more she surely realized the same of _him_. “Hey, wait a second.”

“Hana, don’t –” Jesse had tried to stop her, but it was already too late.

“I know that smell. ...You’re an _omega_!”

Mei actually _gasped_ – and Zarya? …Her posture changed immediately, losing its wary edge. Instead, the woman looked down at him as though he were a fragile little bird instead of a possible threat.

“And you are… _also_ an omega,” Hanzo remarked with growing horror. That girl, Hana, was an omega. …An omega who also knew McCree.

“Yeah. It’s probably what gets me so many fans - at first, anyway. They come for the omega, but they all stay for the _skill_. I’m a pro gamer, if you didn’t know. Want to play a round sometime, Sis?” she asked, referring to the modern concept of “Omegan Sisterhood,” whatever that was supposed to mean to him. 

…Hanzo only stared back at her, dumbfounded.

“Or what about you, Jesse? I’ll crush you just like I always do!” Playful as a child, Hana drew in close, tugging Jesse into a one-armed embrace, before pulling his hat over his eyes. To Hanzo’s horror… Jesse actually hugged her back.

 _He hugged her back_!

…But Jesse had never hugged _him_ like that. They hadn’t even started holding hands!

From somewhere deep within him, that primitive, omegan voice _screamed_ -

A sickening mixture of emotion raged within him – shame at his own possessiveness, disgust and hatred aimed towards Hana… but most of all, there was fear. Fear of losing Jesse to an omega younger and undeniably more charming than he was. Fear of ruining the one decent relationship he’d ever managed to build for himself. Hana was so energetic… She was passionate and bubbly, warm and inviting. …What was he compared to her? Hanzo was just… a prickly, selfish old man. A criminal and a _murderer_.

_Surely, nobody could ever love a wretch like him._

Not when there were people like Hana around. …He had to do something. He couldn’t lose Jesse. He _wouldn’t_ – In a final act of desperation, surreptitiously, Hanzo reached for one of the delicate little clasps securing his backpack… and pried it open until it _shattered_ , dropping his belongings everywhere. 

Immediately, Jesse was back by his side, helping him pick up his arrows and his fallen emergency supplies -

“Aw, Pumpkin… did the strap break?”

“Y-Yes…” Hanzo answered, omitting the fact that _he _was the one who had broken it. A deep, profound sense of shame crept over him – though it failed to overpower the flood of relief that came with the familiar touch of Jesse’s hand on his shoulder.__

____

____

“Guess that proves that money doesn't always buy quality. Well, it ain’t a big deal; it’s just a broken clasp. There’s a repair kit on the transport, so if you hurry, you can fix that up no problem if -” 

“ _No_!” Hanzo insisted, with so much force that he drew the attention of everybody around him – not that he had noticed, in the heat of the moment. _Not that he would have given a damn, even if he had._

…Alphas wanted to feel important, didn’t they? The wanted to feel skilled and powerful. Alphas wanted omegas that were delicate and helpless. It was what his father had always said. It was how his teacher had trained him to act. Swallowing his pride, Hanzo pulled Jesse closer to him – and farther away from _her_. 

“You do not understand, Jesse. I have never repaired anything; I have never so much as held a tool. This is... _far_ too confusing,” he lied, shamelessly playing up his own helplessness, “…I need your aid. This task is simply beyond the capabilities of… of an omega such as me.” 

“Shh, shh, shhh… It’s alright, Sweet Pea…” Jesse cooed, “I can take care of it. …Okay? You can count on me.” 

Hana sighed, rolling her eyes in what Hanzo knew was surely _jealousy_ \- “Ugh… Are you serious? You can’t just look it up? Get with the times, Sis! Omegas can do anything they want.” 

“Stop teasin’ him, Hana,” Jesse scolded, “Culture moves a little too fast for us old folk. When you’re our age, kids are gonna be tellin’ _you_ to get with the times, too. Just you wait.” 

“Whatever, old man,” she teased, pulling Mei along with her as Zarya and Angela followed, “Hurry up and fix your stupid buckle, or whatever! I want to go back to the hotel!” 

“…Don’t let her get to you, Pumpkin,” Jesse reassured, helping him back to his feet. As if to prove his own physical strength, as they made the trip back into Overwatch’s transport, Jesse carried his backpack, overflowing with supplies, underneath a single arm. “I know there’s a lot of pressure nowadays to be a ‘strong, independent omega that don’t need no alpha,’ but bein’ a _traditional_ omega is just fine in my book. Hell, my abuelita was one of ‘em, my _mamá_ was one of ‘em… I think this generation is too eager to forget that traditional omegas are the heart and backbone of families everywhere.” 

“I do not know how ‘traditional’ I am,” Hanzo admitted with a nervous chuckle. 

“Oh, you’re _very_ traditional,” the alpha replied. Hanzo only blinked back at him, dumbstruck that Jesse had actually taken the liberty to answer on his behalf. “…Perfect for an old-fashioned alpha like me.” 

“You would not prefer Hana?” 

“I won’t lie: I considered tryin’ somethin’ with her when we first met,” Jesse began, dashing his hopes - at least initially, “…But when I got to know her, I realized that she wasn’t the kind of omega I wanted. She’s fun and all – she’s a great friend – but she ain’t the family type. …You _do_ want a family, don’t you, Han?” 

Did he? 

In truth, Hanzo would have been perfectly happy without pups. In a way, the thought of having a creature growing inside of him, feeding on his body - the thought of slowly developing a _birth canal_ over the course of his pregnancy terrified him. He wasn’t ready to give birth. He wasn’t ready to be a mother. …Not yet. 

Regardless of his fears, however, one thing was certain: Hanzo wanted Jesse. More than _anything_. The few months that he had spent in Overwatch had been some of the happiest of his life. For once, he didn’t have to worry about food, or clothing, or shelter. He didn’t have to worry about danger. During missions, Jesse was never far from him. He only had to call his name, and the alpha would come running. 

Jesse gave him safety. Jesse showed him _love_ when even Genji was still walking on eggshells around him. Jesse was his light. The center of his life. 

…The loving mate, the lord and protector. 

“I do not know if I am ready to carry pups… but I will do it for you,” he declared, with the crippling _shame_ of his own degradation creeping in further and further, “If only you support me, Jesse… then I know that I can do this. I can become a mate and… a mother.” 

_If you promise never to leave me, I will be whatever you want me to be._

The confrontation with Hana had admittedly unnerved him… He couldn’t relax; he couldn’t think straight. All that he knew, through some strange sense of instinct, was that he didn’t want to lose his alpha. 

“…Jesse?” he asked, gripping onto the alpha’s arm like a vice, “I do not want to wait until we return to Gibraltar. I want to be mated _now_.” 

As if sensing his fear and desperation, the alpha didn’t push him away, despite how unattractive he must have looked, at that very moment. “…You can’t control your heats, Han.” 

“ _I can_. I will skip my next dose of suppressants; I can induce my heat _tonight_. It… will be weak. It will likely only last a single evening - but I want to be mated to you. I do not want to be alone any longer.” 

“Are you sure about this, Sweetheart? A hotel room ain’t a proper den. It won’t even smell like me.” 

“...Do you find me undesirable?” 

“No! No, of course I don’t! … _God_ , Han, I’ve wanted to knot you for… well, I ain’t gonna make a fool of myself and say it.” 

“Then do it. _Knot me_.” 

For a moment, he was afraid that Jesse had changed his mind about him – but the alpha only took his hands in his and smiled down at him as though he were as precious as the sun and stars, themselves. 

“Alright, Han. You don’t have to worry about a single thing. …I’ll take good care of you. I promise.” 


	14. Chapter 14

Finally, after more than a dozen texts begging her to recruit the rest of the team into protecting Hanzo, Angela messaged him back. There was no reassurance, no sympathy… just a blunt and brief _‘Acknowledged.’_

…Genji wasn’t surprised. His relationship with her had been rocky, as of late. He knew how fiercely her devotion burned – and how resentful she felt towards the man who had murdered him. It made his heart ache, seeing her angered to tears on his behalf whenever she so much as spoke about his brother.

She was so special to him... He knew that Angela empathized with his suffering in a way that perhaps no one else ever could. Even if their secondary genders weren’t compatible, Genji didn’t care in the slightest. Angela was his. And she would always be a _person_ before she was a beta - or anything else, for that matter.

She had supported him when he had nothing and no one. _He loved her so much_. …But perhaps she could see that in his own, special way, he would always care for Hanzo more. Even his brother's betrayal, all those years ago, could not erase the fact that he and Hanzo were two halves of a whole. Two sides of the very same coin. 

_Dragons reborn_ , like in his father’s old stories…

Though dread and anxiety weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach, Genji tried his best to remain optimistic – or at the very least, to accept his master’s teachings that some things were simply out of his hands. He had passed the message on to Angela. Until he arrived at the hotel, the rest was up to her. Sighing, Genji leaned back into his seat, staring out the window of his taxi cab. He took a moment to glance at the message that Winston had sent him, detailing the team’s living arrangements. …His brother was staying in room 602 – sixth floor, second door from the right, after stepping off of the elevator. 

Time dragged on, as it always did when he was nervous. ...When the cab finally parked outside of the hotel lobby, Genji paid his fare and went inside, offering a cheerful wave to Zarya, whom he could see from the glass door leading into the hotel’s free gym. Though he had so much to tell her, knowing his priorities, Genji headed straight to his brother’s room, knocking on the door.

He could hear shuffling inside, though nothing suspicious as of yet, thankfully... He had already decided, in the cab, that if he heard even a single moan coming from Hanzo’s room, he would kick in the door and throw Jesse right out the window. When he could hear the sound of the door unlocking, he breathed out an audible sigh of relief...

“Oh, Anija...” he greeted, when the door opened, “It’s so good to see you. I –”

Suddenly, he froze - Genji stared in front of him... and a woman he had never met stared directly back.

"You're... not my brother," he remarked, "Is this room 602? ...Do I have the wrong room?"

"No, this is 602," the woman answered, "I just got this room though; I was on a waiting list. Apparently, the guy who was staying here before me checked out early. I think I saw him in the lobby this morning - an Asian man, right? An _omega_. Was that your brother?"

"Hanzo checked out of this hotel? Do you know where he was going?"

"No, sorry. ...Oh! But he was with an alpha. A guy in a funny hat."

...He felt sick - 

His vision blurred, his world was spinning -

"H-Hey! Are you alright? Hey!"

 

________________________________________

 

...McCree resisted the urge to light another cigarillo, though he knew, by now, that Hanzo didn't mind the smell. In a way, he just didn't want to empty out another pack. ...He'd been smoking more - and drinking more - recently. Despite how smoothly his courtship with Hanzo had been proceeding, in truth, Jesse hadn’t expected to get to the point of mating with him for another _month_ , at the very least. He’d planned to take that time to prepare: to watch educational videos and catch up on all of the sex ed that he’d missed after dropping out of high school. 

He’d watched porn before, certainly, but he knew that it was only acting. He’d never actually had the chance to try to please an omega for himself – and he certainly never expected that omega to make the first move. 

…And yet here they were, sitting in awkward silence, side by side, in their rustic little room in a country bed and breakfast. It was a little more romantic than the cheap hotel that Winston had booked, at the very least; he was lucky that they still had a room available. Jesse had splurged on the “Alpha/Omega Vacation Package” – which had included a reservation to some fancy restaurant where the waiters were better dressed than he was. ...Hanzo seemed to like it, though, which was all that really mattered, at the end of the day. 

To their credit, the staff of that little B&B really knew what they were doing. When Jesse and Hanzo returned to the room for their “special night,” rose petals had already been laid out before them, candles had been lit and a warm, comforting scent wafted through the room, reminding him of home.

Even so, the special accommodations failed to put him at ease. The fact that Jesse would soon lose his virginity could no longer be ignored. This would be a major turning point in his life; everything that he had done for the better part of half a year had been leading up to this very moment. …But now that he had Hanzo at the cusp of heat, waiting in his makeshift den, now that he was _so close_ … Jesse found that he simply didn’t know what to do. 

He was just so inexperienced; he’d never done anything like this before...

“You sure your suppressants are wearin’ off, Pumpkin?” he asked, unable to hide his uncertainty, “I don’t smell anything different.”

“Yes. I can feel the early effects of my heat,” the omega replied with a polite smile, “I feel… a tingling sensation beneath my skin. My sense of smell is sharper, and… my fundoshi is moist.”

He didn’t know what the hell a fundoshi was, but if it was “moist,” then it was probably underwear… and it probably meant that Hanzo was far enough along that he was already producing slick. Jesse’s anxiety only worsened at the thought of it. His hands were sweaty; his heart was pounding a mile a minute.

“So…” Jesse began, breaking the silence with an awkward cough into his fist, “Have you ever had sex before, Han? I-I mean, I can tell you’ve never been knotted, but have you ever experimented? Like… with a blowjob or anything?”

“When I was young, my clan attempted to mold me into a bargaining chip. I was trained – though only with toys - to accept an alpha’s knot without complaint. I can do this, Jesse,” the omega reassured, though it only managed to _terrify him_ , “I am ready for you.” 

...God, this conversation was so _fucking_ awkward that Jesse couldn’t even look his way. All he could do was stare down at his boots…

“And what of you?” Hanzo continued, “Have you ever lain with anybody?”

“No, you’ll be my first,” the alpha admitted, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, “I’ve watched porn and… _jerked off_ , yeah, but this’ll be my first real experience with an omega. …Or _anyone_ , actually.”

“…Perhaps it is for the best that we are equally inexperienced. We can learn together, then.” In a way, for some reason, that statement actually calmed him.

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed with growing confidence, “Yeah! That’s a good way to look at it. Nobody starts off fuckin' like a porn star, right? We'll get to know each other's bodies, and... it'll be good.” 

“Of course. Everything will be fine.” They sat there in silence for a little moment longer, before Hanzo sighed, tugging out his ribbon and running his fingers through his hair. “Well… I suppose that the first step is… getting undressed.” 

With a nervous chuckle, Hanzo removed all of his little accessories and slid off his robe - though when it came to his trousers, the omega glanced warily back at him with almost palpable anxiety.

“...You’re doin’ great, Sweet Pea,” Jesse remarked, aiming to encourage him.

Inspired by Jesse’s praise – or perhaps just resigned to the fact that it was pointless to delay the inevitable - in one, swift movement, Hanzo tugged off his pants and his fundoshi before lying down on the bed. …Though instead of spreading his legs like the wanton _whore_ that all omegas in heat were expected to become, like a genuine, blushing virgin, Hanzo locked his knees together. A warm, crimson flush blossomed over his skin, sweet and innocent.

…It was so precious, so youthful, that Jesse couldn’t control himself. As if in response to Hanzo’s pheromones – that sweet, floral scent of omegan slick - Jesse shamelessly reached for Hanzo’s body, squeezing at his chest, grazing his fingers against his nipples -

He wanted to touch every last inch of him. To hold him close and never let go… With as much love as he could muster, Jesse peppered a trail of gentle kisses down the little omega’s jaw.

“Oh God, that _slick_... You smell so fuckin’ good, Han.”

He had the strangest desire to _taste it_ , of all things. Slowly shifting his attention downwards, Jesse dragged his canines over Hanzo’s scent glands. Soon enough, he would be marking him. His saliva would prevent the wound from healing, leaving permanent scars on the omega’s skin and changing the very composition of his scent. From then on, Hanzo would smell like a mated omega. 

The longer he lingered, influenced by the heavy scent of heat, the more confident Jesse grew. He moved even lower, intent on seeking out the source of that slick. He’d planned to say something dirty – something about how wet Hanzo had become... but when he took a look between Hanzo’s legs, despite his arousal, one thing caught his attention above all else.

“...Holy crap, is that your dick?” the cowboy blurted out, staring down at… _what honestly looked like a little nub_. It wasn’t short, per se, but… it was only, just _barely_ a little longer than his thumb, and not a centimeter thicker than that. It was pale and hairless, and… undeniably _alien_. In truth, Jesse had never seen an omega’s penis before; the videos that he chose to watch usually involved women instead. And as for the few men, well… nobody watched male omegan porn to see male omegan _dicks_. Jesse squinted, looking closer. “God, it’s so… _tiny_. That's gotta be the smallest dick I’ve ever seen."

It was only then that Jesse realized how terribly he’d stumbled. He’d already ruined everything before they’d even gotten started. “Oh, shit. Wait, _no -_ ”

…Fuck. Within an instant, Hanzo’s casual expression twisted into the ugliest, most horrific scowl that Jesse had ever seen in his entire life. The omega pushed himself up by his elbows and stared back at him, unwavering. 

“… _What _?”__

____

____

“N-No! _No_! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, I swear to God!” Jesse retorted, shaking his head as he continued to recite an endless string of hurried apologies, “It’s _beautiful_ , Han, just like you are. You’ve got a... a nice lookin’ dick. So it's kind of... strange. There ain’t no shame in that; I mean, omegas are _supposed_ to be small, and -” 

Fuck. 

Growling, Hanzo shoved Jesse away and started to push himself off of the bed. 

“Han, wait! I’m sorry!” Jesse whimpered, grabbing onto his arm and _pleading_ , “Really, I am. I wasn’t thinkin’. I just… I’ve never seen an omega’s dick before, and it kind of surprised me. That’s all. I know I fucked up and hurt your feelings, and _I’m sorry_. …I know I’ve got a big mouth, and that I need to be more careful ‘bout how I say things. I’ll get better at that. I promise. So… please don’t leave. _God_ , please don’t leave me!” 

If he lost Hanzo now, and from a stupid, _fucking_ side comment, of all things, Jesse would never forgive himself. …Hanzo couldn’t help but stare back at him, startled by the sheer desperation in the alpha’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry. …I’m sorry,” Jesse repeated, praying with every ounce of faith he had left that Hanzo wouldn’t be cold enough to deny him his final reward, after all of the _shit_ that Jesse had gone through just to please him. “I’ll make this good for you – I promise. I’ll treat you right. I know that alphas can be selfish, but… I swear that _I_ won’t be like that: I won’t just jackrabbit into your asshole for a couple minutes, bust a knot, and start droolin’ in your hair.” 

“That was… oddly specific,” Hanzo replied, turning back to face him. ...Oh, thank God: _he laughed_. 

“Hey, it’s an alpha’s ultimate nightmare!” Jesse joked with feigned confidence, “Any alpha worth his knot has to be able to please an omega. I have no experience, yeah, but… I know that I can do this. You’re the omega that I _love_ , Han. I want to start a family with you. I want to build a nest, raise our pups… grow old and grey together.” 

Slowly, that gentle, loving smile began to return… 

“Then let us see how well you can please me, ‘Alpha.’ ...Take off your clothing,” the omega commanded, “Truthfully, I am rather curious. I have never actually seen a knot.” 

“You know… neither have I,” Jesse admitted, pulling Hanzo down onto the bed to lie beside him, “Alphas only get ‘em in response to omegan heat pheromones, so… this’ll all be new to me, too.” 

“Are you afraid, Jesse? ...You look worried.” 

A little display of sincerity wouldn’t hurt, Jesse considered; Hanzo always responded well to them. “…Yeah. I guess I am. It’ll be somethin’ I’ve never seen before, just… randomly growin’ out of my dick. Kind of gives me the creeps just thinkin’ about it.” 

“Well… I, for one, look forward to seeing your knot,” Hanzo declared, straddling his hips and looking down at him with that 'fuck me' gaze - “I know that it may seem strange to you, but I find the concept of an alpha’s knot... _attractive_.” 

…That was all the encouragement he needed. With trembling excitement, Jesse practically _ripped_ his clothing apart in an effort to get it off of him as quickly as possible. He threw off his hat and his serape, he discarded his armor and undershirt - as for his trousers, he was grateful that he had Hanzo there to help him along. He never would have imagined that out of the two of them, his omega would be the more experienced partner. Even if the man had only ever used toys, that was more practical experience than Jesse had, a thousand times over. 

As Hanzo reached for his belt, Jesse realized that his ears were ringing… It was getting harder to think about anything except for the overpowering scent of Hanzo’s slick, soaking through his pants as the omega sat on his lap. Even Hanzo wasn't unaffected by the multitude of pheromones coming off of the both of them. Despite his focus, the omega's movements were becoming erratic; when he reached for Jesse’s cock, pressing his thumb over the slit, his hand was actually _trembling_. 

“It is… bigger than I imagined.” 

“ _Not bad_ , huh, Han? Want to give it a kiss?” He was only teasing; he'd half-expected Hanzo to slap him. ...But to his shock and utter disbelief, the omega actually _played along_ , pressing a kiss against the tip of cock. When he pulled away, the shine of precum stained his lips - 

“You fuckin’ tease –” Laughing playfully, Jesse dug his fingers into Hanzo’s hair and _tugged_. “You better suck it, or it’s goin’ in dry.” 

“I think not.” Pulling away, Hanzo _flicked_ at Jesse's cockhead, making him flinch back with an audible hiss of pain. “I never understood the appeal of oral sex. Why should I feign enthusiasm regarding the act when I do not receive a single benefit from it?” 

“Well... That’s the whole point of it, Pumpkin,” Jesse retorted, kicking his pants the rest of the way off and throwing them in the corner with his discarded serape, “It’s supposed to be somethin’ people do for their mates because they love them – it ain’t for their own benefit.” 

“Regardless, I fail to see why _I_ should be expected to make such a sacrifice when an alpha would never be obligated to do the same for me.” 

"...You don't think I'd pay you back?" 

"Of course not. You are an alpha, and -" Before his omega could finish that though, Jesse pried his legs apart and dragged his tongue over his entrance, only to be met with a gush of slick, hot and heavy – 

Stunned, Hanzo shuddered beneath him, the scent of heat pheromones growing stronger, even as the last few traces of his restraint and dignity fought back against the rush of omegan hormones. 

“Jesse –” he called, his voice, _cracking_ , “Wh-What are you doing?” 

“…I don’t get anything out of it, sure,” the alpha explained, echoing his words, “But I don’t mind, if it’s for you." 

Shamelessly, Jesse wiped away the thick coat of omegan slick, splattered over his cheek. 

“Is that so? …I see.” In that moment, perhaps responding to his alpha's selflessness, Hanzo tilted his head back, exposing his scent glands in a silent invitation for Jesse to mate with him – to bite down into his flesh and seal their bond together. “If it serves as an act of devotion, then… perhaps someday, I… would not mind sucking your… _cock_.” A beautiful, nervous chuckle escaped his lips. it was the first time that Hanzo had said anything dirty to him at all. The omega's shyness, his _embarrassment_ , was so endearing that Jesse couldn’t help but smile - but he had to admit that he enjoyed Hanzo's playful side just as much. The whore and the virgin... An intense sense of fondness sparked in his chest, even as he continued nipping at his omega’s thighs, sliding his tongue into his loose and dripping entrance. 

“Maybe in the mornin’, before breakfast…” Jesse laughed, pulling himself up to share a possessive kiss, warm and intimate, giving the man a taste of his own slick, “Right now, Pumpkin, I got other ideas…” 

Taking Hanzo’s hand in his, he traced the omega’s fingers along his growing knot. It was a strange and morbid sight, hot and hard, bright red and _pulsing_ from the swell of blood beneath it. In any other context, Jesse would have been terrified. …But the second Hanzo touched it, he trembled - another gush of slick running his thighs... 

“… _Fuck me_ ,” he gasped. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

... _God_ , that first, slow press into the warmth and tightness of Hanzo’s body was everything that Jesse had ever wanted. At that moment, buried in to the hilt, Jesse knew that he had been _right_ , saving himself for thirty-seven long years, just to be with Hanzo - the omega that was perfect for him. He didn't even complain when Jesse collapsed down on top of him, taking a moment to catch his breath like he’d just run a marathon. 

“S-Sorry, Pumpkin. You’re… tighter than I thought. I’m gonna need a s-second, or else I might… you know.” 

“…’Jackrabbit’ for two minutes and fall asleep, drooling into my hair?” 

Jesse only laughed, kissing the omega’s forehead like he was his own little treasure. “Hell, with an omega like you, I could cum right now! You’re so goddamn gorgeous…” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Jesse… Get to work,” Hanzo teased, threading his fingers through the alpha’s hair – before giving it an insistent tug. 

…Well, how could he ever refuse an order like that? 

Gathering his bearings, Jesse steadied himself – and set a brutal pace right from the start, snapping his hips up, pounding into the body beneath him hard enough to draw blood. With every movement, he pressed himself deeper, just _waiting_ for the moment when Hanzo would tell him to stop, or to slow down, or to treat him just a little more gently… 

But the request never came. Instead, _Hanzo_ was the one who egged him on, with his expression contorted in what could only be described as _ecstasy_. Unable to hold himself back, the little omega raked his nails down Jesse's spine, carving deep, angry cuts that would surely smart in the morning. …Though his movements were violent, the entire time, in typical Hanzo fashion, the omega didn’t make a single sound. Unlike in the movies and romance novels, where omegas always wept and whimpered, Hanzo never begged. He never debased himself, never cried – 

He just… threw his legs around Jesse’s hips, pulling him closer until his knot had grown to a point where it was almost _painful_. It pressed against Hanzo’s hole, _so close_ to breaching it, sealing them together for the rest of the night – and binding them as a mated pair. …He’d been ready to knot him for ages, now, though Jesse continued to resist. Instead, remembering his promise to please Hanzo first, he rammed into that one, little spot that made the omega choke and gasp. 

“Sh-Shit…” He’d been fucking him for over an hour, his cock had started to chafe despite the slick, and yet, Hanzo hadn’t leaked a single drop of precum – “I… I don’t know much longer I can do this, Han. Are you close?” 

“Just hurry up and knot me,” Hanzo hissed, barely audible as he buried his face into the pillows, “...I cannot finish until you _knot me_.” 

...Perhaps there was truth to fiction, after all. In all of the videos that he had he ever watched, omegas never came until their alphas had sealed them together. …Was that all he needed? He didn't understand, but in this case, all he could do was follow Hanzo's lead. Drawing back and bracing himself, with one final jerk of his hips, he forced his knot into Hanzo’s hole, stretching behind his rim and sealing them together. Despite the fact that he could barely hold himself up any longer, instinctively, Jesse _snapped_ his teeth down around Hanzo's scent glands, piercing through the skin before he lost himself to the burst of blackness in his vision. 

Breaking his long maintained silence, Hanzo _screamed_ , writhing beneath him, mewling as he clawed at Jesse’s back, his hair – desperate for any sense of purchase as his body clenched down around the intrusion, milking his alpha's cock as the man came in pulses, coating him deeper than he’d ever been touched - 

And marking him as Jesse’s omega - _forever_. 


	15. Sunny Santa Fe

“Alright, Sunshine. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed you a little bit of everything.” 

…It must have been a dream. Sitting in a king-sized bed, with an overflowing tray of food presented before him, with Jesse, his _alpha_ , stroking his hair and fluffing his pillows –

Nobody had cared for him like that since he was a boy. 

After he had presented, after he had lost all claims to the Shimada-gumi, his father had ordered their servants to stop looking after him. An omega’s place, after all, was to serve _others_. After a lifetime spent in luxury, Hanzo had been cast out of his social sphere, condemned to spend the rest of his life as what was essentially a slave.

And he had accepted it - accepted the fact that nobody would ever treat him well. …Hanzo realized, at that moment, that it had been so long that he had actually forgotten how it felt to be loved. 

Hanzo had slowly been led to believe, since the day he presented, that there was something intrinsically wrong with what he was. That his biology made him lesser than other people. Less worthy of love, of respect and basic decency. 

But Jesse made him feel human again. A whole human being, instead of the simple sum of his parts. …He could finally start living again.

Careful not to jostle the tray, Jesse crawled into bed and pulled him into a tight embrace, pelting his cheek with wet, sloppy kisses.

“How’re your legs feelin’? Any better since we slapped on that ointment?”

“Yes. It is… actually quite soothing. Thank you for fetching it for me. …I know that it was unreasonable of me to send you to the pharmacy at such an early hour.”

…He’d woken up at five in the morning - and with Jesse’s flaccid cock still lodged inside of him. Groggy and grumpy, with a pounding headache, Hanzo had pulled himself free and slid off the bed… only to collapse before he could take a single step.

His legs felt like _jelly_. Throbbing pain radiated from a place deep inside of him… He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t stand – 

All that he could do was shout for Jesse, praying that his alpha would hear him over his incessant snoring. 

“It was the least I could do. It’s… my fault you’re like that, in the first place. …Sorry I kept on fuckin’ you for so long. I was just waitin’ for you to cum; I didn’t know that you couldn’t make… sperm. I swear.”

“I forgive you. …I am not the only one who has suffered, after all,” Hanzo teased with a snide little smile, “When you rushed to my side, the first thing that I noticed was that your penis had turned as red as your serape.”

“Y-Yeah, there’s… a lot of chafin’ goin’ on,” Jesse muttered, scratching at his groin, “Even with all that slick, after an hour, things got kinda raw.”

“Well… now we know better for next time.”

“So there’s gonna be a next time?!” Jesse blurted, practically bouncing off the walls from joy itself, “Then… you liked it?”

“Of course I did. …I would have stopped you, otherwise. …Did I ever tell you about what happened to the first and _only_ alpha who had ever attempted to proceed with a knotting despite my protests?”

“Lemme guess: he’s dragon food. …Or did you crush his head between your thighs? Because you really latched on good, you know? My sides are killin’ me.”

He glanced away, smiling, if only to hide his embarrassment. “And… how is your back?”

“It ain’t too bad. The scratches’ll heal up fine. Pharmacist told me to pop a couple pain killers and see if that don’t bring the swellin’ down. …You want one, by the way? Your neck’s lookin’ kind of… red.”

With a curious mix of wonder and fear, Hanzo rubbed at his scent glands – at the little spot that bore Jesse’s mark. Strangely enough… it didn’t hurt. In fact, it didn’t feel like anything. “How odd. My skin is… _numb_.”

“Is that normal?”

“I had only been trained to mate. I… was never told what would happen to my body afterwards.” If he hadn’t lost his phone on the transport, he could have looked it up, himself. It was strange… The day that he lost it, he and Jesse had been watching a movie. He could have sworn that he’d turned off his phone and placed it on the table, but by the end of the film, it had simply disappeared. They’d searched between the couch cushions, under the rug – everywhere, to no avail. 

Perhaps he had brought it with him when he had gone to the bathroom and simply forgotten. …Though in the end, it didn’t particularly matter. He knew that it was somewhere on the transport. And like all lost objects, surely, it would simply turn up on its own, in the most obvious of places, when he’d finally stopped looking for it.

“Huh,” Jesse remarked, having looked up the information himself, “Says here that an alpha’s saliva can numb his omega’s wounds. …So the next time you need healin’, you don’t gotta wait for Angie! Just call me over, and I’ll spit on you.” 

Jesse burst out laughing, and for some reason, though he knew that he should have been irritated, Hanzo couldn’t help but follow suit… before taking a scone and shoving it into Jesse’s open mouth.

_______________________

…

…Genji hadn’t slept all night. 

He’d run himself ragged, racing around the city in a mad panic, checking every restaurant, every hotel, for any trace of his brother. 

He’d screamed his throat raw calling Hanzo’s name again and again – He wasn’t answering his phone; _he couldn’t find him._

Despite recruiting Hana, Zarya, and Mei in the search, in the end, they hadn’t found anything, either. It was almost as though Hanzo had disappeared in the void, itself. …He’d given up at around three in the morning, sitting outside of the hotel in the hail and the snow, ignoring the temperature warnings going off in his systems. 

He’d ignored Mei and Hana, too, when they begged him to come inside. He fought back against Zarya when she tried to carry him. 

Even though he knew that it was pointless, Genji waited. 

…It was too late. Jesse had taken his brother to an isolated location overnight. Even the stupidest alpha knew what that implied, and yet, Genji couldn’t stop hoping. 

Perhaps they’d simply caught a late-night movie and couldn’t make it back in the snow. Or perhaps Jesse had tried something uncouth, and Hanzo had _beaten him into a bloody pulp_. He didn’t care if he would have to expend every last penny in his bank account to bail his brother out of prison. Money didn’t matter. …Genji just wanted to see him. He couldn’t imagine the idea of failing Hanzo not once, but _twice_.

His brother wasn’t as strong as he looked.

He was sheltered and gullible, fooled by the elders of their clan into believing that turning on Genji could change his fate – and now he would be fooled by Jesse McCree. 

Sometime around seven, Mei came back with a blanket and a mug of hot cocoa.

“Genji, please come inside,” she pleaded.

“…I have to wait for Hanzo.”

“He’ll come back. Besides, d-do you really want to look like _this_ when he sees you? You look like an _icicle_! …He will be so worried.”

…She was right. He knew that, and yet – 

“What do you think Jesse is doing to him, right now?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shaking her head, “…But Hanzo will always be your brother, even if he’s mated or not. He’ll be okay. …He’ll still have you looking out for him, after all - and he’ll have me and Zarya, too! Even if the worst happens, I don’t think that things will change as much as you think that they will.”

Oh, but they would. It wasn’t a simple beta relationship, after all. Jesse was a traditional alpha, and in many ways, his brother was a “proper” omega. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that if they mated, certain alpha/omegan dynamics would form between them: the alpha would play a dominant role, and the omega would submit. Genji had never seen a traditional couple who had defied this expectation – and he didn’t believe that Hanzo and Jesse would ever be the first. Even so… he was so touched by Mei’s kindness that he couldn’t bear to shoot her down. “…Thank you.”

“Everything will be okay. You’ll see. N-Now, hurry up and come inside, you’re freezing!”

As they walked towards their rented conference room, where they would discuss the details of their mission, Genji couldn’t ignore the question that had been bubbling up in his mind the moment that he’d realized Hanzo was missing. He turned to Mei, curious.  
“When I was on my way here, I messaged Angela, asking her to warn everybody about Jesse’s behavior. It would have been sometime in the early morning. Did she ever say anything?” …What a stupid question. What was the point of asking when he already knew the answer? Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, Genji asked again – though this time, only for confirmation. “…She never delivered my message. Did she?”

“I’m sorry, Genji.”

A cold numbness overtook him. Staring straight ahead, unwavering, Genji threw open the door and stormed up to the woman he loved – and whom he had believed, perhaps erroneously, to have loved him in turn.

“What have you done to my brother?” he asked, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Genji –”

“ _What have you done to Hanzo_?!” He shoved her against the wall, trembling with rage, with _fury_ … with grief and betrayal. “Why didn’t you warn the others?”

Sighing, she placed her hand on his wrist, so gently, just like she always used to… and just like that, all of the strength seeped out of his body, draining out of his circuits and synapses. He stumbled back until he was leaning against the table for support.

“Your brother’s presence here in Overwatch has been hurting you, Genji,” she replied, “You’ve been crying out to him in your sleep. All that you ever speak of now, is your concern for him. You have been worrying yourself sick… but when was the last time that he ever spared a thought for you? …He _killed_ you –”

“And I forgave him. Do you not understand that people make mistakes? Do you intend to condemn him for that for the rest of his life?!” 

“Why must you feel obligated to forgive him? An alpha or beta in his position, murdering his own brother, would have been thrown into prison for rest of their lives.”

“An alpha or a beta would have never been in his position in the first place!” His already booming voice grew even louder – shrill and furious.

“Despite what you may believe, I did not do this because of my… _disapproval_ of Hanzo’s actions. I did this for you. If Hanzo is mated to Jesse, then he will be expected to bear his pups. Soon, he will have no choice but to retire from Overwatch’s roster… and you will be spared the constant reminder of your trauma.” She sounded so self-assured, so “logical” that caustic bile rose in his throat. He felt sick all over again – “I know that you are angry – and you have every right to feel that way. It was not just for me to turn my back on a patient, but I… I wanted to protect you.”

“You had no right.”

“I know. …But I love you, Genji. For the sake of professionalism, I never said it as much as I wanted to - but I do love you _dearly_. …And I could not stand back and watch while you set yourself on fire to keep Hanzo warm.”

“Do you honestly believe that I am ‘sacrificing’ myself for –” He froze, suddenly, stunned by the voice coming from just behind the doorway, growing louder.

That voice… That voice! It was –

“ _Hanzo_!” He turned around just in time to see the door swing open… and to see his brother, cradled in Jesse’s arms.

…And just like that, his world came to a screeching halt.

“Genji?” Hanzo greeted with a smile as bright as the sun, “What are you doing here?”

A wave of pheromones hit him like an arrow in the back; it was the scent of a mated omega… For a brief, horrible moment, he only stared back at him, stunned.

“Y-You’re… You and… Jesse…” 

“Yes. I… _I did it_ , Brother,” Hanzo replied, so _happy_ , as though he couldn’t see his own beauty – as though he couldn’t believe that any half-decent alpha could have ever desired him, “I found a mate of my very own. I did it.”

Swallowing down his _screams_ , Genji coached his expression into a supportive smile, even as his fists, hidden beneath the table, shook with grief and anger –

“…Congratulations, Anija,” Reminding himself to take slow, deep breaths, barely – just _barely_ – holding it together, Genji stepped forwards, approaching the newly mated pair to pat his brother on the shoulder. 

“Hey, what about me?” Jesse smirked, glaring down at him with an _infuriating_ smile that made him see red. …Genji tightened his jaw, grinding his molars together. 

He wouldn’t start a fight in front of Hanzo. _For the sake of the gods_ , not in front of Hanzo!

“…If you ever hurt my brother,” he began, stone cold and quiet, “If you _ever_ betray the trust that he has placed in you, I swear that I will –”

“Peace, Genji,” Hanzo chuckled, oblivious to the war that had secretly been raging between the two alphas, “Jesse would never do such a thing. He is… _My alpha_ is everything that I had ever desired.”

His brother’s happiness, his innocence… Gods, it _crushed_ him. 

“I am… so glad that you’re happy, Anija,” he finally said, his voice breaking as he fought back tears, “You deserve all the joy in the world, you know that?”

“Thank you, Genji. I am relieved to have your approval. …Oh - before I forget, however, may I… ask something of you?”

“Of course. You can always count on me.”

“Would you be willing to take part in this mission on my behalf? I am… currently indisposed. And if I may request something else… I would ask you to please look after Jesse. Please return him home, safely to me.”

…Oh, he would “look after Jesse,” alright. 

“Anija, you don’t have to be so polite. I’m your little brother! I’d move mountains for you. I-I know that… I haven’t been proactive enough in mending our relationship, but that’s going to change from now on. I’ll be here for you, just like when we were kids. You can tell me anything. And if you need anything – and I mean _anything_ at all – you just… you just let me know.”

He didn’t care if everyone was there to witness his _emotional breakdown_. It didn’t embarrass him, when it all was for Hanzo’s sake.

“Genji, why are you speaking like that? Has something happened?”

“No. No, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m here for you.” _He wanted Hanzo to know that he had an ally – and a way out, if needed._

“Well, I don’t mean to interrupt this touchin’ moment,” Jesse began, _interrupting_ , surely knowing what Genji was trying to do, “But I carried Han all the way over here from our B&B. We just wanted to pop in, give everyone the news – but I ain’t sure how much longer I can hold him like this. I’d better set him down. I booked the penthouse suite, so I’ll just drop him off, and then I’ll be back here in a second. …Sound good?”

After the team went around giving forced, awkward congratulations, Jesse left with his brother in tow… and Genji couldn’t stop himself from weeping.


	16. Chapter 16

By the time Jesse had returned to the conference room, his team had already scattered, with only Angela, sitting alone in the corner. With her head buried in her hands, and her little body, shaking like a leaf, she looked moments away from breaking down in tears.

“Everythin’ alright, doc?” he asked, cautiously making his approach, knowing full well that he was likely the source of her woes, indirectly or not. He wasn’t as stupid as people presumed. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t put the pieces together: she and Genji must have broken things off. After all, Angela wasn’t a fool, either; she was a licensed psychologist, for God’s sake. Surely, she must have known about Jesse’s intentions from the very start. The fact that she hadn’t told anyone – and the fact that she hadn’t interfered in his courtship – likely meant that she approved of his relationship with Hanzo in some way. As for her reasons for staying silent, McCree had a few theories, though nothing so concrete that he could make any definitive statements just yet.

Not that he would have, even if he’d known the details. He didn’t want to start a fight with her when he’d already alienated everyone on the team except for Hanzo. During his courtship process, he’d begun ignoring texts and phone calls. He’d skipped his appointments and allowed his friendships to slowly crumble away into dust.

He hadn’t attended a team movie night in months. He’d skipped chore duty and brushed off Winston’s admonishments… even going so far as to ignore Jack, of all people, when he came to him, concerned about his sudden lack of interest in the team. 

…Not as though he regretted pulling away - "O’s before bros,” and all that.

Jesse was more than happy to burn his bridges if it would only strengthen the bond between himself and his omega. And yet, so early in their mating process, he wasn’t eager to turn his team’s distrust into open hostility. He wanted Hanzo to feel safe in Overwatch, after all – _safe with him_.

He drew closer, a dark sheen overtaking his sharp and knowing gaze. “…Angie? You listenin’?”

“Out of all of the omegas in this world,” Angela began, her voice, soft and weak, “Why did you have to decide upon _him_?”

He’d never heard her sounding so mournful, even after the fall of the first Overwatch. 

“Ain’t like you, askin’ questions when you already know the answers,” he countered, taking a seat by her side and throwing his feet up onto the table, “The hell did you expect me to do? Wait another thirty-seven years ‘cause – what – pursuin’ Hanzo would’ve upset Genji? ‘Cause it’d make trouble for _you_? Hell, you had a million chances to tell Han what I was up to, and you didn’t say shit. Doesn’t that mean you wanted us to get together in the first place?”

“I didn’t think that it would end like _this_. I knew that Genji would be upset, but I never thought that he would leave me so suddenly. He… He didn’t even want to discuss it further.” 

“Look. I ain’t gonna beat around the bush, here, Angie. I’m sorry you and Genji split, but I’d do this all over again if I had to. I’ve helped a lot of folks durin’ my time in Overwatch. I’ve saved lives. I’ve paid back my debts a thousand times over. …So, _yeah_ \- I think I’m a little entitled to puttin’ myself first, for once.” 

“…At the expense of everyone else?”

“Would you get down off your fuckin’ high horse? You only regret supportin’ me and Han ‘cause things turned sour for _you_. If Genji hadn’t left your ass, you wouldn’t give a shit that I mated with Han. Besides, you know what they say: ‘All’s fair in love and war.’ Better luck next time.”

She flinched - her eyes going wide. …For a long, tense moment, they simply sat there in silence, knowing that there was nothing left to say between the two of them. They both had been willing to resort to lies and manipulation in order to achieve their own ends. …The only difference was that Angela had overestimated her partner’s devotion towards her.

“…I’ve always liked you, Angie,” he confessed, breaking the silence as he pushed himself to his feet, “I hope this ain’t gonna cause problems between us.”

With that, he left, sauntering away towards the transport without a single care or regret in the world.

______________________________________

Sitting in the back of the transport, McCree slowly picked through the little bento box that Hanzo had insisted on preparing for him, despite the fact that he could barely stand on his own two feet. 

_‘I want to take care of you…’_

The memory of Hanzo’s devotion tugged at his heartstrings in the best of ways, leaving him with a warm, inner glow that would surely stay with him for the rest of the mission.

The food wasn’t anything particularly special – they had few ingredients and limited time, after all. …But it was still nicer than anything that Jesse would have ever expected, or anything that he would have prepared for himself. Egg salad sandwiches and a bit of chopped fruit – and a little love letter written on a sticky note. 

Much to Jesse’s relief, Hanzo was surprisingly affectionate, after their mating. A good and dutiful omega.

Even though he wasn’t hungry in the slightest, Jesse ate the sandwiches anyway. …He couldn’t help himself, when they were so _adorable_. Perfectly cut with the crusts removed, with every little half-sandwich looking nothing short of pristine. …Obviously a meal prepared by a house omega. Nobody else would ever care enough about their partner to put so much detail into something so simple.

“…What happened to my brother’s phone, Jesse?” 

Turning slightly, he came face to face with Genji, glaring down at him from the aisle. Though that clear aura of malice should have ruined the mood, in a way, Jesse took _pride_ in the effect that his relationship had on the other man. He finished off the last of the sandwiches and leaned back in his seat.

“Hell, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Han’s a grown man; he can take care of his own stuff.”

“If you ‘do not know,’ then how did I find _this_ in your luggage?!” Genji slammed the “missing” phone down onto the table - “…It is a curious thing, truly; when I visited Hanzo in the penthouse, he said that he had lost that phone three days ago… and yet the battery is still over ninety percent charged. How do you explain that?”

“Oh, right, I remember: Han’s phone. …You know what happened to that thing?” McCree growled, standing up – _towering_ over the younger alpha before him, “I started seein’ it lightin’ up with message after message… so I got a little curious and I snooped. …Damn good thing, too, seein’ all of the nasty _shit_ you’d been tryin’ to send him. What was it you called me, by the way? A ‘wolf?’ A ‘predator?’ Hanzo didn’t need to see that.”

“Because you knew that he would have never agreed to mate with you, if he had!”

“Why does that bother you so much, anyway?” Jesse laughed, cruel and sardonic, “Does it piss you off that you ain’t the only alpha in your brother’s life anymore? Does it _scare_ you that maybe, just _maybe_ Han ain’t gonna need your ass anymore, Genji?”

“I-I…”

“Or are you just jealous that _I’m_ the one who’s _fuckin’_ him?”

“You’re sick!” Just like that, Genji slammed his fist into his jaw, sending him reeling… When Jesse wiped at his mouth, he realized that the younger alpha had busted his lip…

“Oh…” he laughed, spitting blood onto the metal floor below, “You stupid little _bitch_ -”

He hadn’t intended for the situation to escalate like that – bashing Genji’s head against the corner of the table, tugging his arm back until the circuitry _sparked_. Like any ninja, however, Genji was resourceful, picking up his glass of whisky and shattering it against his temple, before switching their positions, using his leverage to dislocate Jesse’s shoulder. 

…It was ugly: a long, drawn out fight that ended in gushing wounds and broken ribs on Jesse’s part.

By the time the others had caught on to their screaming, the alphas were _tearing_ at each other, struggling on the floor in a pointless struggle for dominance over an omega who was already mated.

With Genji pinning him onto the ground, McCree could barely breathe… He could barely _see_ through the blood dripping down his forehead.

“Please stop fighting!” Mei shouted, making her approach – though Zarya quickly pulled her back the second Genji drew his wakizashi.

Everybody _froze_ , too startled to make any sudden movements. Jesse could only stare up into the dangerous glint of that sword. Though he would like to have claimed that he hadn't lost face, in truth… he was _terrified_.

“Whoa – h-hold on there, Genji. Let’s just talk about this.”

“You ruined Hanzo’s life!”

“Genji, no!” Yelping like a pathetic little pup, Jesse brought his arm up helplessly to shield his face as the ninja stabbed his sword down… penetrating the floor of the transport, mere centimeters away from his skull. 

For a moment, time stood still, with Jesse, unable to do anything but stare up at his former friend in _horror_.

Genji shivered, leaning his body weight onto his sword, looking so exhausted... His gaze looked a thousand miles away as he slowly breathed in and out… In and out.

“…Hanzo is my big brother,” he said at last, sounding so innocent, “He has been… my best friend and my hero, ever since we were children. He was always so loyal to the clan and to our family. He was… going to sacrifice his freedom and his happiness for nothing more than a trade agreement, arranged by our father. Our father… who was willing to trade his own son for money. …Hanzo has led a difficult life, bleeding out from all of the knives in his back.” 

Jesse could barely hear anything above his heartbeat, thundering between his ears. 

“I have to protect him. Hanzo is not as strong as he looks. He has been trained to fight, trained to endure… but never to _change_. …Or to think for himself. A sword that is merely _hard_ while lacking flexibility will be brittle. Too much pressure, and the blade, no matter how sharp, will shatter. Hanzo cannot survive on his own. Without me… he would not even be alive at this moment; there would not have been anybody to stop him from carving himself apart beneath the old sakura tree in our family garden.” 

Genji’s tears fell onto his cheek, paralyzing him.

“He needs someone to hold his hand for just a little longer.”

“…I can do that,” Jesse vowed, closing his eyes, “I can protect him.”

“I have no choice but to believe you,” Genji relented, as though he knew that Hanzo would have never forgiven him if Jesse had died in that transport, “Take care of my brother. Talk to him. Get to know him. He is... really, very interesting beneath his shell. I’m sure that you will like him - the real him. ...Just as I know that everybody in Overwatch would have liked Hanzo if they had only given him a chance.”

“I’ll drag him to a couple more events. See if I can’t… 'socialize' him a bit.”

“Would you? Tell me… what do you know about my brother, Jesse? Did you know that… Hanzo’s favorite food is tuna sashimi? Maguro. …Not ōtoro, even though it’s more expensive. He thinks that all fatty tuna tastes the same, but each piece of lean maguro tastes different depending on the fish. He likes the uncertainty. The adventure.” Finally calming himself, Genji pulled his sword from the ground, returning it to its sheath. “He never likes anything just ‘because.’ He always has his reasons; you have to learn to dig deeper. For instance, his favorite book is –”

“ _Takekurabe_ ,” Jesse answered, slowly pushing himself to his feet despite the pain… “Yeah, I know. I read it. Han said that he used to hate it as a kid, but after he presented… it helped him come to terms with the shitty hand he’d been dealt. Taught him that’s there no dodgin’ fate - that it was okay that he’d given up. Sometimes, life just has a funny way of forcin’ people to turn into the one thing they don’t want to be. Nothin’ they can do but make the best of it. …That’s what he told me, anyway. Figures that’s the message he’d get out of it, though. It’s… real like him.”

Genji smiled up at him, _laughing_ , even with tears in his eyes. “I am surprised that you knew that…”

“Han’s a lot more talkative than he usually is when he knows that you’ll actually listen.” 

“…Do you love my brother, Jesse?” 

“More than anything. I’d take a bullet for him. …Probably have, once or twice.”

“Our friendship cannot survive this betrayal,” Genji admitted with sorrow, shaking his head, “…But I, too, love Hanzo. For his sake, let us attempt to… tolerate each other. Let us be civil. Let us pretend that none of this ever occurred. He would be so sad if he knew that we fought.” 

“You’re right,” Jesse sighed, coughing as he cradled his broken ribs, “I think that’d be for the best. I know Han had a real shitty life before this. …I just want to make him happy.”

Genji nodded, before staring into his eyes with a strange expression of both defeat - and peaceful acceptance. “We’ll do it for Hanzo, then.”

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed, “…For Hanzo.”


	17. Chapter 17

Hanzo hadn’t realized it until recently, but he couldn’t recall a single instance in his life when he’d ever been happy. Simply, peacefully happy. …Not until he’d met Jesse. 

Even as a pampered child, a “little prince,” life had been a struggle. Constant training under the watchful eye of a father who behaved as nothing more than a distant authority figure - an unrelenting taskmaster and cruel disciplinarian. He couldn’t understand. Was there something inherent about him that made him less worthy of love, even before he presented? 

Sojiro often took Genji for walks, entertaining him with storybooks and hand puppets… while he only ever treated Hanzo to the sting of his ruler, slammed against his knuckles. Shunned by his father, naturally, Hanzo, as a child, had gravitated towards his mother, instead. Or at the very least, he had _tried_ to bond with her. …She seemed almost eager to push him away.

' _Hanzo?_ ' she had asked him one day, as she sat in her wheelchair under the old sakura tree. He had known that whatever she wanted of him, it was serious. His mother almost never used his name, after all, when Hanzo was named after his maternal grandfather, as per tradition. He’d never seen the man. All that he had known about him was that he had slit his mother’s Achilles tendons after she presented as an omega, leaving her helpless – and incredibly desirable, in certain circles. ' _…Do you love me?_ ' 

' _Of course I do. You are my mother,'_ he had answered, robotically as ever.

' _Then… can you tell me something? What is Mama’s favorite color? …Do you know?_ '

Of course he hadn’t. Nobody did: not his father, not Genji… He would realize, after he presented, that nobody had ever talked to his mother, that nobody ever talked to _omegas_ , unless they needed something – food, attention, entertainment. He wouldn’t learn, until later, just how isolated someone could feel, even when surrounded by smiling faces.

…For many years, now, just like his mother had surely felt, Hanzo had been tired. Tired of _everything_. Tired of feeling inadequate, of always lurking in the shadows, of shirking away from alphas and feeling detached from the world - separated from the rest of society. He couldn’t drive, he couldn’t work. 

What did he even have to live for? He fought tooth and nail to just barely scrape by… and for what? Just to do it all over again one week later? In truth, Hanzo had been tired of struggling - of dragging himself, sick and starving, into omega’s shelters whenever his exhaustion overwhelmed his pride. 

In truth, objectively, the shelters weren’t particularly terrible. They were alpha-free zones, staffed entirely by beta volunteers who offered to take care of omegas indefinitely, if they needed it. Some residents had lived in those shelters for most of their lives. It was their own little omegan community: their safe haven, away from the rest of the world.

The shelters would let him use their laundry facilities, they would patch up his wounds – even if the doctors would always pelt him with questions regarding how he received them: whether there was an alpha at home, whether anybody hit him, whether he was scared. He never answered anything – never even giving them his name. He would always just sit there, staring at the wall.

Though the staff and elder omegas always offered to let him stay, though they looked at him with pitying glances whenever he insisted on leaving, Hanzo knew that could never live in a place like that permanently. Even if he would face pain and hardship in an outside world designed for people undeniably superior to him, it was better than remaining in a place where abused omegas gathered with missing eyes and dozens of mating marks bitten into their necks and faces. Where they were in constant fear of alphas and vandals pounding on their doors at night. Armed guards, all betas, wandered the halls, keeping the rabble out of their home - and keeping the omegas in. 

It reminded Hanzo of a glorified prison. _Or a leper colony._

But now… he wouldn’t have to live like that anymore. Jesse would take care of him. His days of hardship and loneliness would finally come to a close. 

…Everything would be alright.

Someday, someday soon, Jesse would take him to America for their wedding, set in the same little chapel where his mother and father had exchanged their vows. Though Hanzo had stopped believing in gods and the afterlife - or even a meaning to life - ages ago, he didn’t mind swearing on the Bible if that was what his alpha wished of him.

He loved Jesse, after all. He wanted him to be happy.

After returning from St. Petersburg, the newly mated couple had settled into their home life relatively easily. As the alpha, Jesse volunteered to manage their work and finances: writing their mission reports, managing their schedule, and speaking on behalf of both himself and Hanzo during meetings. And in exchange, well… Hanzo cooked and cleaned, just as he had been trained to do, all those years ago. 

He didn’t mind. 

It was an arrangement upon which they had both agreed. Hanzo hated phone calls, and Jesse hated cooking; Hanzo wrote poorly in English, and Jesse always shrunk his shirts in the laundry. Dividing their labor based on their corresponding skillsets just felt… natural. 

…He wasn’t a stereotype. He had nothing to feel ashamed about.

Even so, despite their easy sense of domesticity, Hanzo found that it was disproportionately _harder_ , now, to survive on his own, when Jesse was away on missions. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, feeling exposed and anxious, having to box himself into the corner of his bed with the blankets that still bore Jesse’s scent. He hadn’t washed them in two weeks, for that very reason, while the alpha was away in China.

At the very least, he would return today. Hanzo sat anxiously in the docking bay, staring out the window for a single glimpse of Jesse’s transport.

“Hey, Sis,” Hana greeted, taking a seat beside him, “Are you okay? You’ve been sitting there since breakfast. …You do know that their shuttle isn’t going to come back for another half-hour or so, right?”

“I know,” he answered, without once looking her way, “But in the event that they return home early, I would like to be here for Jesse.”

“He really is lucky,” she stated with a laugh, looking up at him with a strange sense of maturity beyond her years, “You know, when he and I first met, Jesse came on to me, too. But I shut that down _fast_. He has these… ‘expectations’ of omegas that I just don’t fit – but honestly, I thought that _nobody_ fit that kind of role, anymore. I thought Jesse would for sure have to compromise if he wanted to get an omega at all, but… then you came along. And you’re everything he’s ever wanted. A traditional omega in this day and age - the chances of you two meeting up were one in a billion. …He’s lucky.”

“We suit each other well, do we not?” Hanzo agreed with a smile, missing the point - though endlessly pleased that others had taken note of their compatibility.

“If you want to think of it that way, I guess you do. Just… make sure to get out of the nest every once in a while, okay? I know you want to be with Jesse, but Genji misses you. I think he’d like it if you joined up for movie night sometime or just went out together as brothers.”

“Genji said that?”

“Well, don’t tell him that I told you!” she laughed, “It’s just that a lot of omegas have a hard time adjusting to new hormones and stuff after mating, so I think that he’s worried. He probably just wants to check up on you.”

“…I see.” 

They talked a little longer after that - about omegas in general, and about how their secondary sex had affected their lives. After her presentation, Hana had been forced to abandon her plans to apply to university. Though her mind hadn’t changed, the fact that her _body_ had was more than enough. …No university in the world, save for the few in Nordic countries where omegan equalty was put into law, would ever accept her. 

Disheartened and disillusioned, she had turned to the internet for comfort and discovered support groups, forums – and online gaming. The rest was history.

“So… what did you want to be before you presented?” Hana asked, tucking her knees to her chest, as she stared up at him with wonder.

“I was… the heir of a yakuza clan. The Shimada-gumi.”

“Ew. …Guess it’s a good thing that didn’t work out, huh?” she winced, inching away from him, before giving him a playful nudge – “Now you get to be one of the good guys, instead! That’s way better than being some _thug_. Don’t you think so?” 

“Perhaps.” After all, if he had never presented, if he had been born an alpha and taken over the clan, well… then he would never have had the chance to mate with Jesse McCree.

“Oh, here’s the transport!” She pointed up at the shuttle as it slowly descended. “And here comes lover boy…”

Hanzo had already shot out of his seat to wait by the door, brimming with excitement and unrestrained joy.

“Welcome home, Alpha,” Hanzo greeted with a traditional bow that had Jesse blushing the second he set foot into the watchpoint. Even so… his alpha seemed pleased, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled him into a crushing embrace.

“Hey, Han! _God_ , I missed you,” Jesse mumbled into his shoulder, nipping at his mating mark, “Fuck, you smell so good... I can finally relax, for once.”

Hanzo smelled like he always did, but on the other hand… Jesse didn’t smell like him at all. He smelled like foreign places, foreign _people_. It wasn’t right. _It wasn’t right!_ …Hanzo hadn’t even realized that he’d started scenting him, rubbing his bearded jaw against Jesse’s neck, along his serape, and… everywhere else he could reach – until Jesse shushed him, stroking his back.

“Shhh… It’s alright. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Oh... I apologize,” Hanzo stutted, as he pulled away, utterly humiliated. He had expected the rest of the team, currently stepping off of the transport, to mock him… but for some reason, they only smiled back, waving at him, clapping him on the shoulder – the very model of a supportive family.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Pharah reassured him with a confident nod, “It is not uncommon for mated omegas to develop separation anxiety. It’s perfectly normal.”

“…Separation anxiety?” He didn’t like the sound of that. It brought back images of weak, heatsick omegas, clawing at their alpha’s door, begging for a knot. 

“You should ask Winston if you and Jesse could be permitted travel together, from now on. …Or if you prefer, I could submit that request on your behalf. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“That will not be necessary.” He preferred not to owe Pharah any favors. He still remembered their confrontation, after all – and Hanzo’s grudges, fierce and bitter, burned for a lifetime. 

Strangely enough, however, Pharah seemed to have forgotten entirely. Ever since he and McCree had broken the news of their successful mating, the rest of the Overwatch team had actually begun to _coddle_ him. Asking him if he needed help with his double load of laundry or reassuring him that he could talk to them if he needed a friend. 

They had some ulterior motive; he just had yet to uncover it. He trusted those people about as far as he could throw them.

“Then how ‘bout _I_ go ahead and talk to ol’ Winston?” Jesse offered, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, “I think Pharah’s onto somethin’, actually. You and me on the same missions… I think I’d like that.”

“You would?”

“’Course. I always want to be with you.” Jesse leaned in closer, then, growling into his ear, keeping their conversation secret – “And _in_ you, if you know what I mean. …To think I went thirty-seven years without an omega. Now, I can barely last through a two week dry spell.”

“Careful, Jesse,” Hanzo scolded, shoving him away – his voice, barely above a whisper, hissed through clenched teeth, “Remember where we are. Choose your words more carefully. …The actions of an alpha reflect upon his omega. I, too, share the McCree family name, now. Please attempt to carry yourself with dignity and grace from now on… difficult as that may be.”

Jesse only tilted his head, oblivious. 

“So…” he began, his voice, at full volume, “Can I fuck you tonight, or what?” 

Lúcio choked on his soda. …Lena burst into laughter –

“A-Absolutely not!”

“Oh, shit –” Jesse ran his hand down his face before chasing after his angry mate, who had already started storming back towards their nest… 

“Han? Pumpkin? _I’m sorry_!”

______________________________________

…Jesse really _had_ been sorry.

After his alpha’s little misstep, the man had made reservations at the most expensive sushi restaurant he could find, and afterwards, after sampling everything on the menu, they went shopping… _again_. 

It was typical, truly. Every omega enjoyed receiving gifts, and hoarding behaviors were natural for their kind. That was how Jesse attempted to rationalize it, anyways - and Hanzo had taken that explanation in stride. If it was just in his nature, after all, then the fact that he was wasting his alpha’s money wasn’t truly his fault. …Was it?

It had been so easy to just… _stop caring_ about their finances, entirely. It was so _easy_ to just leave it up to Jesse. …He trusted his mate, after all. Surely, Jesse would have stopped him from spending so much if it was necessary. Until then, perhaps he could simply content himself with ignorance. …He deserved to feel happy, didn’t he? He deserved to feel wanted. …So Hanzo was going to enjoy his gifts. He loved his new wolf skin hat; he liked the braids and the little glass eyes. He liked his yellow haori and his new drinking gourd. 

There was nothing wrong with that. …There was nothing wrong with acting like an omega, for once in his life. So what if he was a stereotype? _So what_?

His alpha was so good to him…

At the end of the day, when Jesse had rubbed at his shoulders, slowly moving his hands lower and lower, Hanzo had given in to temptation… and now here they were, hours later.

…He took a drag of Jesse’s cigarillo, holding the smoke in his lungs until black spots danced in the corners of his vision. When he finally exhaled, opening his eyes just slightly, he saw his alpha, staring down at him, affectionate as always. With loving care, Jesse rubbed at his omega’s bruised and bloody thighs, still propped up on his hips. 

“Sorry I bit you so much. …What about your ass, though? Does it still hurt, Sweetheart?”

“No. It has become easier to accommodate your knot, in recent months.” The first time they’d fucked outside of his heat, with no gush of slick to ease the way, Jesse’s knot had torn and splintered him, leaving him screaming in agony, clawing at the bedsheets in a desperate attempt to get away from the knot that would seal them together for over an hour.

…An hour of pain and terror. Every spurt of cum felt like liquid fire, searing his intestines, burning him alive from the inside out. Shamelessly, he had wept into Jesse’s arms as his alpha, in a panic, threw a blanket over him and carried him all the way to the infirmary at three in the morning. 

In his fear, Jesse hadn’t even considered calling Mercy to their nest, instead… Hanzo had been irritated, for a time, but… at the very least, now, they were able to laugh about it.

…And now, the sex was _nice_.

It was likely his favorite part of their relationship, save for the love and emotional support. Every day, he would wake up before sunrise and roll over, pestering his alpha, always fast asleep, for his morning fuck – and every evening, right before they went to bed, Jesse would pin him against the wall, or the floor… or even their bathtub now and again, and he would fuck him until he saw stars. 

To think that he had been so afraid of his own sexuality. …To hell with that.

He wasn’t ashamed. He’d started wearing a plug again, just so that Jesse could knot him a little more easily. It was uncomfortable at times, certainly, but Hanzo didn’t mind. After all… he _liked_ getting knotted. He _wanted_ sex.

“Speaking of your knot, however…” he began, suddenly curious, “I had been under the impression that you could not form one without the stimulus of omegan heat pheromones.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but apparently, my knot still gets the green light when I smell that ‘you’re my omega’ scent comin’ from that bite on your neck. …That’s what Angie told me, anyway. It sounds like a bunch of psychology shit but… hell, I believe it. I get this warm, fuzzy feelin’ when I catch your scent. Thanks for givin’ me one of your yukatas, by the way. It really took the edge off, when I was in China. Wore that thing around the hotel, myself.”

“You wore my yukata?” Hanzo asked with disbelief and _clear_ excitement, “Why do you never do so, here, in the nest? If I could only see you in a kimono and haori…”

“Oh? Would that turn you on?” Jesse asked, wiggling his eyebrows, “Would that get the slick flowin’?”

“Perhaps if you coupled the kimono with kabuki makeup,” he teased, handing the cigarillo back to his mate before reaching for their shared can of sarsaparilla. Admittedly, the drink had begun to grow on him, due only to its association with Jesse.

“Oh, no… _You_ look nice in makeup, Pumpkin. _I’d_ look like a clown.” 

Like a couple of pups, they fought over the soda can for a moment, before Hanzo downed the rest of it, leaving Jesse dry… In revenge, perhaps, his alpha snuffed out his cigarillo and tugged him close, throwing the blankets over their heads. For a moment, they merely held each other in the darkness, completely ignorant to the rest of the world around them.

“…How’d you hold up on your end, by the way?” Jesse asked, finally, “I missed you somethin’ fierce, but I know omegas have it worse than alphas do, when it comes to bein’ apart. Did you really get separation anxiety?”

“The concept of it seems strange, but… I cannot deny that ever since our mating, I want to be close to you. _Always_. …I have actually begun to feel uneasy when I am alone. Even when I know that you are only on the opposite side of the watchpoint, I feel so restless.”

“Huh. Is that so?” Jesse looked away for a moment, before asking, hesitantly, “Well… have you ever thought about wearin’ a collar?”

Hanzo actually _laughed_ , though when he realized that Jesse was serious, he only stared back at him, _stunned_. Suddenly, all of the shame and fear of his presentation, all of the uncertainty, rushed back in a mighty deluge, a tidal wave crashing over him. 

“…A _collar_ , Jesse?” he remarked with disbelief, pushing the blankets down to confront his alpha in the light, “A collar is a mark of slavery. Of… Of alpha _ownership_. You do not ‘own’ me! I am not a _dog_!”

“I ain’t sayin’ you are! ...But when an omega’s got a collar cinched tight around their neck, it reminds them of the moment when they were mated. Makes them feel safe. Real comfortable. They even sell collars made out of a special kind of fabric that holds onto an alpha’s scent. …Don’t you think you’d be a little happier if you had that?”

“Do not presume to know what would ‘make me happy!’” he shouted, clenching his jaw so hard that he felt as though his teeth could shatter, “I am not wearing a collar. …And I am _appalled_ that you would even suggest that to me.” 

Before Hanzo could push himself out of bed, grab his clothes, and storm out into the hallway, Jesse latched onto his arm, squeezing tight enough to bruise. 

“Han. Han, _wait_! …Please.” 

“Release me this instant!”

“Please, just listen. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that… my mamá had really bad separation anxiety, too, after my pa passed. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat. For almost a month, she’d just walk over to his grave every mornin’ – and she wouldn’t come home ‘til midnight. And when she did… she’d just pass out of the sofa for a couple hours, only to get up and do the same damn thing the next day. The only thing that calmed her down was when she started wearin’ her old weddin’ collar again. It still smelled like my pa, even over a decade after their weddin’. It didn’t fix everything, yeah, but at the very least, she could sleep through the night; at the very least, she stopped drinkin’. …It made her feel like she had control over her life again. That’s how she explained it to my sisters and me, anyway. I just thought that if it helped Mamá, maybe it’d help you, too. That’s all. …I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

Of all the possible explanations, Jesse just had to have one that was reasonable. Somehow, that alpha always had a way of extinguishing his anger. There was always a story or an explanation behind everything. There was always an apology that he couldn’t resist. Hanzo’s expression softened, and he sighed, finally relaxing under Jesse’s grasp. 

“I… do not share such a positive view of collars,” he explained, “When I presented, my father procured a metal collar for the sake of my training. I can still remember the weight of it around my neck; it was so heavy… And it had… an electrical device built into it, that would shock me whenever I disobeyed. My first act, after regaining my freedom, was to unlock that collar and carve it to pieces – and I swore to myself, that day, that I would never wear another.” 

“Okay. …Okay. I won’t bring it up again.” Jesse pulled him into his arms, shushing and cooing at him like one would calm a startled foal. “I’m sorry, Pumpkin... I really am.”

And just like that, with his alpha’s arms around him, all was right with the world. Everything would be alright, again.

…Everything would be alright.


	18. Chapter 18

“Is it just me, or has Talon activity really been pickin’ up ‘round these parts?” Jesse asked, looking over the little map projected onto the conference table aboard their transport, “This is the third mission to King’s Row this month. Seems like every time we knock those assholes down, they build back up, bigger and badder than ever.”

“They certainly seem intent on sowing chaos,” Winston agreed, reading over his files, “We have reports of an EMP device being stored in an isolated warehouse by the docks. We need to stop Talon’s agents before they can transport the weapon into the city proper.”

At the mention of the EMP, Genji shot a worried glance towards Zenyatta. “Are you certain that you wish to come along on this mission, Master? What if we fail? My organic components will survive long enough to allow me to reboot my systems if the EMP goes off, but the blast will overload your circuits in an instant. …It isn’t too late to turn this shuttle around. We can find another healer. …I can work with Angela. Really, Master, it isn’t a problem; I just want you to be safe.”

“We must all learn to welcome adversity as an opportunity for change, my student.”

McCree narrowed his eyes, glaring at the two of them in confusion, as though they were speaking another language entirely. 

“You know what they’re talkin’ ‘bout, Han?” Jesse whispered to him under his breath. Hanzo would have never expected such nosy behavior before their mating, but his alpha was surprisingly interested in gossip. Always on guard, always wanting to know what the others thought of him. Strangely enough, nobody ever spoke to Hanzo about Jesse, always changing the subject when he attempted to gather information for his alpha. Lúcio would talk to him about music and hobbies, Hana would always ask how he was doing, Lena would try to entertain him with her ridiculous stories, and… that was it. 

The Overwatch team acted as though Hanzo had never been mated at all. 

He sighed, sipping absentmindedly at the tea that his mate had brewed for him. _Genmaicha_ , this time. With Jesse so eager to spoil him, Hanzo hadn’t been forced to resort to bagged tea in over a month. “Genji has changed so much during our time apart. I fear that I no longer understand his motives - that I no longer understand _him_.”

“Well, at least you’ll always have me,” Jesse reassured him in bold and confident tones, as he rubbed gently at Hanzo’s thigh, littered with bite marks beneath his trousers, “When we get to King’s Row, you just stay behind me. Okay, Sunshine? …I got a bad feelin’ about this, and I want to keep an eye on you.”

“Hanzo was being trained in swordplay and archery while you were still crying for your blankets and apple juice, McCree,” Genji interrupted from across the table, always so eager to come to his brother’s defense, “He can protect himself. He needs high ground; he cannot simply hide behind you.”

“I agree with Genji. If I am to work effectively as your sniper, I need to seek out vantage points,” Hanzo began, though he flinched the moment Jesse turned to look at him. Even though the cowboy had never laid a hand on him, instinctively – or perhaps only as a result of his training as a house omega - Hanzo feared his alpha’s wrath. “O-Of course, I… do not intend to undermine your authority as my alpha. I only –”

“Hold up: my ‘authority?’” Jesse remarked, crossing his arms, “You’re a grown man, Han. I ain’t ‘orderin’ you to do shit. I don’t gotta protect you if you don’t want me to; it was just a suggestion.”

If it was only a suggestion, then why did he look so disappointed? 

Hanzo turned away, shrinking under the weight of Jesse’s palpable displeasure. Perhaps in an effort to lighten the tension that he’d started, Genji smiled back at the both of them, warm and reassuring – even though Hanzo could clearly sense his pity.

“How about this?” the younger Shimada offered as a compromise, “Stick to the rooftops, but stay near McCree, Anija. That way, he can get to you quickly if you need help.”

“Does that sound acceptable to you, Jesse?” Hanzo asked, “I would not object to complying with your suggestions, otherwise.” 

Suggestions. Not orders. _Never_ orders. If Hanzo were following an alpha’s orders, why… that would make him no better than a slave, now wouldn’t it? Well, he wasn’t like that. 

He _wasn’t_ -

“That’d be fine,” Jesse answered with a sigh. He lit another cigarillo and surely tried not to look at him. “Just call me on the comm link if you need anything, Han.” 

“You can call for _me_ as well,” Hanzo offered, gathering his courage. Eager to soothe his alpha’s displeasure, he rested his hand on Jesse’s arm – a gentle, pleading gesture. “I know that I am only an omega - that I lack your strength and your resolve… but the spirit dragons walk with me. I can still fight. …I want to protect you.” 

“Yeah?” Jesse smiled, finally relaxing under his grasp... _Thank the Gods for that_. “Well, I gotta say, that’s reassurin’. Ain’t no better guard than my omega.” 

“Are you… being sarcastic?” Hanzo asked, with a nervous smile, still unable to fully grasp the concept of English sarcasm and irony.

“Actually, _no_. Threaten their alpha, and a mated omega’s tough as nails; I’m serious about that. A thousand years ago, there were entire _armies_ made up of omegas.” 

“It is a common fantasy story,” Hanzo replied with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh, it’s a lot more than a story. You can see their bones in museums and shit datin’ back to the Crusades. Apparently, those omegan soldiers were all mated to the king or the generals, and when battles started, someone would just scream at them: ‘ _Do it for Alpha_!’, and they’d charge like a pack of ragin’ bulls, mowin’ down anyone in their way.”

From across the table, Lena grumbled, rolling her eyes… “That just some sexist story made up by alphas with _Amazon fetishes_ , Jesse. It isn’t true.”

“Whether it was true in the past or not don’t actually matter to me. All I’m curious about… is whether _you’re_ gonna be like that, Han,” the alpha teased, nuzzling against him, _scenting_ him, “You gonna fight for Alpha, Sweet Pea? …You gonna put on that wolf hat and go all ‘Amazon warrior’ on Talon?”

“H-How did you know that I packed the hat in my suitcase?” he asked, utterly humiliated. …It wasn’t exactly a tasteful addition to his ensemble, after all.

“What’s with that tone?” Jesse countered, laughing, “You can’t be embarrassed about it! You love that thing! You’ve been waitin’ for a chance to wear it for weeks, now - and it’s finally gettin’ cold enough in London to bring it out. Have some confidence, Han. Forget what anyone else thinks and wear that ratty ol’ thing! Show it off!”

“… _Ratty_?” Hanzo repeated, suddenly more self-conscious than ever… “Do you think that it is ugly?”

“Well yeah – it’s hideous. …But I’m kind of excited to see you wearin’ it, anyway. You’re always so ‘proper.’ Even in your modern clothes, you look like a _prince_. …It’ll be nice to see you in somethin’ a little grungy, for once. …You don’t got nothin’ to worry about, Pumpkin; you’re a real stunner. You could walk around in a _potato sack_ and still turn heads.”

Despite himself, Hanzo couldn’t help but blossom under Jesse’s attention... Nobody had ever complimented him as much as his alpha did. Undeniably, shamelessly, it felt _good._ Forgetting his fear and anxiety of showing affection in public, Hanzo let his alpha pull him closer, wrapping his arm around his waist and lacing their fingers together. 

And somewhere deep within him, some primitive little part of his brain _squealed_ : _‘Say it again, Alpha! Tell me you love me!’_

…Hanzo coughed into his fist and smothered those pathetic, disgraceful little desires back behind his dignified barriers. Even so, he understood, now where those old stories had originated from: how omegan soldiers could have easily and happily rushed to their deaths. With Alpha by his side, his heart knew not fear, burning instead with possessive ferocity, the essence of omegan devotion, pure and true. He would serve as Jesse’s sword, if he wished it of him; his _shield_ , to protect him from harm.

His own life mattered so little when he was nothing without Alpha. …Nothing.

 _Nothing_ –

________________________________________ 

Everything had fallen to chaos so quickly. With Jesse and the man he called “Jack” occupied below him, Hanzo climbed up the clock tower, eager to pick off the soldiers that had been pushing them back, forcing his teammates to take cover.

Balancing on the ledge, he pulled back his bowstring... when a flash of bright red light, just a flicker, truly, caught his eye in the distance -

It was… a sniper. He had been so distracted with the need to protect and serve his alpha, that Hanzo hadn’t even noticed her presence. …Well, no matter. 

In truth, at that moment, Hanzo realized that didn’t truly care whether he lived or died. So long as he would never be forced to endure a single, agonizing second without Jesse by his side, leading him, guiding him, Hanzo could accept the inevitability of his own death with peaceful resignation.

…So long as he could die as Jesse’s precious omega.

As he fell from the London rooftops, as Jesse’s screams pierced through the cold, winter air, Hanzo discovered that he was okay with the way his life had unfolded before him. In his thirty-eight years, which seemed to have dragged on for _centuries_ , he had finally come to know love. Despite his eccentricities and his wickedness, an alpha had found him worthy. He had been accepted. He had been judged as an omega – and he passed with flying colors. He could leave the world behind with no regrets. 

Tumbling down, faster and faster, with the wind rushing around him, he could barely feel the bullet in his chest. Absentmindedly, he thought to himself – _How much longer? How much longer until I hit the pavement?_

But the sickening _crack_ of bone against cement never came. 

…Jesse caught him – and all that Hanzo knew after that was the comforting tightness of his alpha’s serape, cocooned around him and the soothing warmth radiating from Zenyatta’s orb of harmony. Cradled in Jesse’s arms, Hanzo could barely register the sound of the cowboy’s frantic footsteps as he raced down the streets of King’s Row amidst bursts of wild gunfire.

“Shh, shh, shhh… You’re okay. You’re fine. …You’re gonna be just fine,” Jesse gasped between frantic sobs, “I’m gonna get you to the hospital, and… _fuck_ \- you’ll be _fine_.” 

Alpha sounded so afraid… It broke his heart. Desperate to comfort his mate, Hanzo tried to reach up and stroke alpha’s cheek. He tried his best… and yet Hanzo found that he could no longer move his arms. He couldn’t move _anything_ , as if there were some kind of disconnect between his brain and his body. 

Soon enough, even his senses began to fail. He could see Alpha’s mouth moving, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t hear the words. He wanted to listen; he wanted to hear Alpha’s voice. …He felt so cold.

Alpha was shaking him, shouting, but even so, he couldn’t stay awake. His eyelids felt so heavy. Though Hanzo knew that Alpha would scold him for his laziness, perhaps he could afford to take just a quick rest before returning to his chores. Just a quick rest. 

Just a quick… rest.

________________________________________ 

“ _Han_!”

He awoke to the hum of fluorescent lights - and the warmth of Jesse’s hands, cradling his. 

“Jesse… Where are we?” he muttered, lost and confused. His thoughts were so clouded. 

“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been here for three days, driftin’ in and out. …This is the first time you’ve been lucid enough to say anythin’ but gibberish or random stories.” 

The hospital? 

Right… The mission! _Something had happened to him during the mission_! Jolted to full alertness, Hanzo grasped at his chest, patting over the area where he remembered being shot - only to find that the wound had already closed. He breathed out a sigh of relief and let himself fall back into the pillows, swallowing him whole. 

“That widow-bitch got you good. Bullet grazed your spine and lodged in deep, right next to the bone. A millimeter more to the left, and… well, you would’ve been paralyzed from the neck down.”

“Paralyzed…” It was his worst nightmare, his greatest fear - to end up trapped and helpless, just like his mother. He was already so similar to her in other ways: his secondary sex, his persistent pessimism, his introversion. Shortly after his presentation, Hanzo had even intended, for a time, to follow her into death, itself – snuffing out his life with his own hands. 

Sojiro had always claimed that his mother had suffered from a heart attack, but even as a child, Hanzo had been observant enough to have noticed the empty pill bottles. He couldn’t understand, back then, why it was that she had chosen to kill herself: why she couldn’t just “tough it out” for his sake. For Genji’s. 

…What a selfish child he had been. 

For many years, he had blamed her for his own loneliness, even when he knew that she, herself, had been profoundly unhappy, sequestered in the castle with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. 

_‘Do you want to help Mama in the garden?’_ she had asked him, all those years ago, _‘I know that I only ever grow flowers, and… and that little boys don’t care about things like that, but I can start growing fruit, too, if you want. You like strawberries, don’t you, Pup? I can ask your father to find us some seeds, and maybe the two of us can -’_

 _‘I do not wish to debase myself. Gardening is omega’s work,’_ he replied, impassive. 

Gods, he could still remember the disappointment, the sadness, the _betrayal_ on her face when he had said those words… She never asked him to help her again. In fact, from then on, nobody had been permitted to visit her garden, at all. She never invited him back for _anything_ ; it was the last time that she had ever tried bonding with him.

He had never considered, until he presented, that perhaps his mother had once dreamt of a future greater than serving as a glorified broodmare for the Shimada-gumi. He had thought that being a mate and mother should have been a good enough reason for her to stay alive.

…But it wasn’t that easy. He knew that, now. 

Sometimes, when a person had no control over the course of their life, when they could only watch on in silence and horror as the world spun out of control, as the people that should have loved them drifted away, out of reach, well… being able to choose the method of one’s death – when, where, and _how_ \- was more freedom than his mother had likely ever known.

…Jesse must have sensed his sorrow. In only a moment, his alpha was there, pressing kisses to his forehead, hovering over him and shielding him from the impersonal, sterile atmosphere of that London hospital, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Hey. Paralyzed or not, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would’ve taken care of you. I’m relieved that you made it at all. The doctors said from the beginnin’ that you’d be fine, but… I just couldn’t stop worryin’ that you’d never wake up. I couldn’t help it.” Gently, Jesse laid his head on his chest, clinging onto him for life itself. His alpha’s broad shoulders shook, and… a wetness seeped through Hanzo’s hospital gown. 

It was then that he realized that Jesse was _weeping._

“…My memory of the mission itself is fragmented, but I remember _you_.” He carded his fingers through Jesse’s hair – a tangled, greasy mess; Hanzo had the strangest feeling that Jesse hadn’t left his bedside in the three days since he’d been admitted. There were cup noodle wrappers and takeout boxes in the overflowing garbage can. The alpha’s beard was untrimmed, his eyes were swollen… “I remember that you rescued me, Jesse. One moment, I was falling from the rooftop, and the next… there you were, by my side.”

“You make it sound a lot better than it was. …I just barely caught you. Just _barely_. A second later, and you would’ve slammed into the pavement.” 

For some reason, despite the grief, the fear, and the pain… Hanzo _laughed_. “…This is just like the old stories that I used to read with my brother. The handsome alpha, rescuing his omegan prince, just in time.”

At the very least, that seemed to cheer his alpha up. 

“Last time I checked, though, the prince didn’t throw up all over his knight the second he got out of surgery.” 

Hanzo blinked back at him, stunned – and undeniably disgusted. “…I threw up?” 

“Oh, yeah… You hurled chunks. _Everywhere_ ,” Jesse explained with charades and all, “Side effect of the painkillers, apparently. Made you real nauseous for the first two days. I had to hold your hair back over the garbage. Speakin’ of the side effects, by the way, the nurse told me to get you these for after you’re discharged.” 

Jesse handed him a little paper bag from the hospital’s pharmacy… though when he looked inside of it, there was only a jar of glycerin suppositories... “You haven’t pooped in three days, Han. Now, I ain’t a medic, but just lookin’ at your x-rays, even _I_ can tell you’re pretty backed up. You know… if you’re too embarrassed to put these in yourself, I can –” 

Within an instant, Hanzo pressed his hand against Jesse’s mouth in an effort to silence him – “Have you no shame? We are in public, Jesse! Stop speaking like that!”

“Ow! Okay, _obviously_ , you’re feelin’ better, whether you’re clogged up or not,” Jesse teased, still laughing, “Seriously… I’m glad. Things have been rough lately, and I kind of needed the good news.” 

Hanzo froze, staring at him before daring to ask: “What do you mean? Did something happen?”

“You can say that. We, uh… _We lost._ …No point beatin’ ‘round the bush, I guess. Zen was lucky that he came with us to the hospital; he was just barely out of range when the EMP went off.”

So they had failed after all… Despite the fact that his medication had surely worn off, Hanzo felt sick all over again. While he couldn’t truly say that he cared about the omnics, he certainly cared about _Genji_.

“And what of my brother?” 

“He’s in the next room over. He just finished rebootin’ his systems yesterday, and now Torbjörn’s takin’ care of maintenance. You don’t got nothin’ to worry about; Genji’s doin’ fine. Hell, he was more worried about _you_ than anything else.” 

“Jesse?” he began, clinging onto his alpha’s sleeve to stop him from leaving, “Please… speak the truth. Did we fail to stop the payload because of _me_?” 

After a long moment’s hesitation, the alpha sighed, intent on finally giving an answer – though with clear reluctance. “There’s… gonna be a couple people who blame you. Winston ain’t too happy that you left yourself open, and Jack’s been whinin’ that you didn’t check your surroundings. …But you shouldn’t let that get you down, Han. It ain’t your fault; it’s mine. Talon broke through our chokepoint not because you fell, but because _after_ you fell, I couldn’t just trust Zen to take care of you. I chose to abandon my post and carry you all the way to this hospital. That was my choice; I _chose_ to leave. …If you and me are the reason why that EMP went off, then fine. I can take the blame – and I’ll shoulder yours, too, if you need it. See, the thing is, even though we fucked up… I don’t regret it. Not a goddamn thing. It doesn’t matter to me how many omnics or people die. _You’re_ okay, and you’re still in one piece. That’s all I care about.”

He should have been horrified, but instead… all that Hanzo felt at that moment, in the face of his alpha’s unwavering support, his strength and his loyalty, was _relief_. 

For some reason, even though he’d been careless, even though he’d failed, Jesse still loved him. …Perhaps Hanzo didn’t mind if the world scorned him, after all. 

So long as he had Alpha, he, too, could stand tall.


	19. Chapter 19

“Shh… it’s alright,” Genji repeated, wrapping an arm around his elder brother’s trembling shoulders. Though Genji desperately needed some comfort, himself, he refused to reveal any chinks in his armor. He needed to be strong for Hanzo. “You don’t have to apologize, Anija. It’s okay - _really_. You can cry if you want to, for as long as you’d like. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Oh, but there _was_ , in this case: with Jesse away on an extended mission to America, Genji was finally learning of the full extent of Hanzo’s dependence on him. Terrified and anxious, his brother had been tugging at his hair, _clawing at his mating mark_ for the past two hours. His panic attacks were nearly constant now, broken, intermittently, only by long, draining periods of inconsolable melancholy. Unaccustomed to nesting without his alpha, Hanzo just couldn’t sleep through the night, anymore, plagued by night terrors and crippling insecurities. 

Genji had started staying in his brother’s nest overnight, just to ensure that he wouldn’t be alone… and because of that, he never slept. How could he, when the entire room stank of a foreign alpha? When it stank of _Jesse_? He couldn’t relax; he couldn’t rest. Genji wasn’t certain how much more of this he could take. 

Despite all of his efforts, his brother had started hyperventilating again…

“Okay, here we go. In… and out.” He guided his brother as best as he could, hoping to stave off another bout of crippling nausea. _If he had to clean Hanzo’s vomit out of the carpet one more time, he was going to go insane._ “You’re okay. Everything’s alright. I’m here, Otou-sama has been dead for years… and Jesse is safe. He is thinking of you and missing you… He will come home soon. Just breathe.”

…If Jesse ended up surviving his mission, Genji was going to kill that son of a bitch, himself. What was he thinking?! Volunteering for a mission that would take him away from Gibraltar, away from _Hanzo_ , for three grueling months. Of course, Jesse would be fine: a little irritable at losing access to his favorite _cock sheath_ , perhaps, but omegas were biologically inclined to depend on their alphas.

Omegas bonded for life. 

Without that constant rush of dopamine and serotonin flooding his system in response to his alpha’s fresh pheromones… Hanzo was essentially going through withdrawal. He couldn’t function without his mate. Without treatment, the fear and the separation anxiety would cripple him until the end of his days. 

…It had been a slow and sinister progression.

During his first month of separation from Jesse, Hanzo had been irritable, certainly, but it hadn’t rung any alarm bells from the rest of the team, considering his personality. People stayed clear of him, and… that was that. 

Nobody asked any questions.

But then his combat performance began to suffer. He’d started missing targets, he’d panic in the middle of combat – clutching at his chest as though he feared his heart would stop.

…Now, his brother could barely stop shaking long enough to nock an arrow. Hanzo’s superior, untouchable shell had _shattered_. It didn’t matter what explanations Winston gave him as to why he couldn’t send him to America with Jesse: the fact that the mission was covert, that Jesse was already two months in, the fact that Hanzo’s presence there would compromise the mission – Hanzo had lost his ability to cope with hardship. Screaming and cursing, throwing dishes at the walls during dinner while insisting that everybody betrayed him. That nobody cared how he felt. That nobody cared about him, _period_ – except for Jesse.

 _‘This is why I don’t ever want to be with an alpha,_ Hana had told him that day with tears in her eyes, frozen in horror as Hanzo stumbled away, back into his nest, _‘I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want to be so attached to someone that I can’t go on living without them. …You always hear stories about what happens to omegas when their alphas leave them, but… I didn’t think that they were true. I didn’t think that it would actually be like this. It’s scary.’_

Frozen in horror, he hadn’t said anything at the time… but Hana was right. It _was_ scary. The way his brother’s life had collapsed in only three months absolutely _terrified_ him. 

Watching helplessly as Hanzo fell apart at the seams, Genji knew that he could never mate an omega. Never could he ever condemn a person he loved to a fate as cruel as the one that had befallen his brother.

Never.

When Hanzo finally calmed down, when he managed to collapse onto the sofa, exhausted, Genji knelt by his side, taking Jesse’s washcloth and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Please listen: you’re _sick_ , Anija. You need to talk to a doctor,” he begged for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening, “It doesn’t have to be Angela, if you don’t trust her. …I can help you look for someone who specializes in omegas. They can help you. …There is nothing shameful about needing a helping hand once in a while. Mental health is important, too. There’s nothing wrong with taking medicine or talking to somebody if it will make you healthy.”

“…How much longer?”

 _How much longer until Jesse came back_? …That was all Hanzo ever asked about, recently.

“Sixteen days,” Genji sighed, despondent, “But you shouldn’t have to endure another _minute_ of this torture; this should never have happened to you in the first place. …Please think for a moment. Think _hard._ Do you not agree that this is a problem that needs to be addressed? Do you not believe that you deserve to be able to stand on your own two feet? Even after Jesse comes back, do you _really_ want to continue living like this - knowing that he holds your life in his hands? …You are so strong, Hanzo. Doesn’t it sadden you, knowing that you are so dependent on your alpha that you cannot stand to be without him? Look at yourself…”

Genji held out his phone with the front camera turned on, reflecting Hanzo’s face right back at him. …His brother’s tired eyes grew wide. He poked and prodded at his pale, leathery skin; he ran his fingers through his thick beard, tangled and unkempt. 

“Is that… me?”

“That is what Jesse has let you _become_. You need help, Hanzo.”

For a long moment, Hanzo didn’t say anything at all; he only stared back at his reflection: at his bloodshot eyes and gaunt features. 

“…Perhaps I do.”

Genji couldn’t stop himself from sighing in sheer _relief_. His shoulders slumped – he could _breathe_ again - “Thank you, Anija. Thank you for having the courage to do this for yourself. …Rest assured that I will be with you every step of the way. We all will - this entire team.”

He couldn’t help himself. Overcome with the force of his catharsis, Genji threw his arms around his brother and squeezed him tight, just like when they were pups. …His brother smelled so different, now. He smelled like Jesse’s omega. 

…But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what Hanzo smelled like, what he looked like, what he sounded like – he could trade bodies with a sewer rat and Genji would still love him.

“Winston’s been feeling guilty for separating the two of you, you know?” he added, just to encourage his brother to rejoin their makeshift family, “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that you’re going to see a doctor. Hana and Mei have been really worried about you. Lena’s always asking me what she can do to help cheer you up. Torbjörn’s been wondering if you wanted some advice from someone older. …And Pharah wanted me to say that she’s sorry for being mean to you. Everyone’s eager to help.”

“…But it’s okay if you don’t want to involve the others,” Genji was quick to add, knowing how private Hanzo could be, particularly regarding the details of his personal life, “It can just be the two of us. I can help you find a good doctor, I can drive you to your appointments. …If it’s for you, I can do _anything_.”

“I can take care of this situation on my own,” Hanzo responded, shaking as he struggled to sit upright. 

“Are you sure?” Genji asked, taken aback by his brother’s initiative. Hanzo had been so passive lately that in truth, Genji had his doubts regarding his ability to seek out a doctor alone. …Even so, he felt as though he should at least give his brother a chance. Hanzo had already lost so much of his autonomy; Genji didn’t want to trample on what little was left of it. “Well… if that’s what you want, then okay. But if you change your mind at any time, you just let me know. I’ll always be here for you.” 

As his brother only reached for Jesse’s spare serape, pressing it to his face, drowning himself in lingering pheromones, Genji wondered if he shouldn’t make a list of possible doctors just in case. 

___________________________

Hanzo felt so strange, walking outside with nobody to hold his hand. How was he supposed to know when it was safe to cross the street? There was a walk signal, certainly, but what if a car hadn’t noticed the light? Who would stop him, then, from walking to his demise? There was no protective alpha to catch him, nobody to protect him.

It was such a bright and sunny afternoon… Even in the cool, spring breeze, Hanzo was far too warm with the sun blazing down on him. He missed Jesse’s parasol… How had he ever survived walking without it? What if it rained suddenly? He would get wet! Who would shield him from the elements?

…He was too delicate to suffer through such mistreatment. 

Hanzo knew that, now. 

He may have spent his life just barely surviving: always dirty, always hungry - but now, he knew that he was _precious_ \- and that he deserved better than that. He deserved somebody to hold his parasol, to pull out his chair for him, to hold open his doors, to cut his meat for him at dinner –

He deserved someone to press the elevator buttons so that he didn’t have to risk contaminating his hands.

He deserved someone to part the crowd for him so that he wouldn’t have to brush shoulders with strangers.

Now, Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder: why was his current life so difficult? What had he ever done to deserve such hardship? Hadn’t he served Jesse well? He did everything that he was supposed to! _He followed all the rules_! He’d been good, hadn’t he?

…Then why did Alpha have to go to America and leave him all alone?

There was a decent reason for it. A logical reason. He _knew_ that there was, but for some reason, his consciousness couldn’t break through the fog… He couldn’t stop himself from tumbling down that slippery slope, sliding down that miserable spiral for the thousandth time. …Worrying that Jesse would never come back. That he’d grown tired of him and their life together, that right at that moment, he was cumming, _balls-deep_ , in another omega, younger and prettier than he could ever be.

Genji was right; he needed help. He needed to make it to this appointment. Otherwise… would he even live to see another sunrise? As a boy, as an “invincible” alpha, Hanzo had once thought ‘panic attacks’ to belong only to the domain of squealing little schoolgirls who screamed and cried at the thought of chewing gum flicked into their hair. 

…But it wasn’t like that.

Though he always survived, during every bought of panic, Hanzo couldn’t help but think to himself – Is this the last time? Is this really it? 

_I am going to die like this_.

…He had thirty minutes to make it to the next block - but it had taken him six hours just to get as far as he had. Every crosswalk, a gaping abyss, every puddle, the River Styx. …As he tried to cross the street, a car, running a red light, zoomed past him, blaring its horn.

His throat clamped down tighter than a vice. Straining himself with every breath, he clutched at his chest, as the world around him lost its meaning – shape and form, color and texture - 

He collapsed on a nearby bench... 

…

…and arrived at his appointment ten minutes late.

“Sirrah McCree, I presume?” the old alpha behind the counter greeted, without a trace of annoyance or bitterness in his tone.

“…Oh. Y-Yes.” It still took some degree of effort, on his part, to remember to respond to Jesse’s name at all – and to that _title_. Though it had negative connotations of its own – an inferior man, a _boy_ – at the very least, it wasn’t ‘Hanzo-chan.’ If he ever heard that again, he would stand out in the street and _let_ himself walk to his doom. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

“There isn’t any need to apologize for anything. You’re a lone omega. I understand. …While I don’t normally do business with omegas without their alphas’ permission, I did read over your message – and it sounds as though you have some very extenuating circumstances.” 

“That is correct. …My alpha is fighting overseas,” Hanzo just _barely_ managed to express, as he took a seat on the nearby sofa, “He has been gone for almost three months, now. Though he is scheduled to return home at the end of this month, I… I do not feel as though I can survive through another day of separation from him.”

“I understand - and I can help with that. My family has been in this business for generations. …You do have money, though, correct?”

“Of course. I borrowed it from my brother. He thinks that I am… going to see a psychologist.” A haunting sense of guilt plagued Hanzo’s mind and yet, at the moment, he found that he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. …He just wanted to feel like himself again. 

“A _shrink_?” the old alpha scoffed, scratching at his beard, “…This must be a _younger_ brother, then.”

“How did you know?”

“Because no alpha in our generation would ever dare to recommend something like that. Young people don’t know how to take care of omegas. Always rambling on about how there aren’t any differences between the sexes, and how… omegan behavior is all just a ‘social construct’ or some other hogwash. Well, you don’t need to listen to that pseudo-science.” The old man walked behind the counter and pulled out a little, ornate box, before joining Hanzo on the sofa. “My son is an omega, you know? You should hear the things he says. …Disgraceful.”

“How old is he?” Hanzo asked, if only to be polite.

“Old enough to know better. …He’s dating another omega. Not like the wife and I would _ever_ allow that little _witch_ in our nest. …That son of mine could learn a thing or two from the omegas who come here, but he refuses to set foot in the shop. …He says that he can’t support what I sell here –as though collars haven’t been comforting omegas for hundreds of years. He only hates collars so much because he’s too young to remember what life was like during old wars, with alphas dying by the thousands. …When _omegan mates_ had to do alpha work. Fifty-some hour workweeks in the factories, toiling in the cold and the dark, with nobody to hold them. Nobody to care. The only way they stayed sane was through _collars_. My mother wore one, and because of that, he had the confidence to go to work every day, making steel for this country. Before he had his collar, he’d just wait by the front door of our house for my father to come home.”

“Will I regain _my_ confidence if I wear this?”

“I guarantee it, or you’ll get your brother’s money back. Now… do you have anything of your alpha’s on you? This collar here -” the old man began to explain, as he opened the box, revealing a simple, black omega’s collar, “Is made out of a special kind of leather, treated to hold onto your alpha’s scent.”

“I have his hat. Will that do?” As Hanzo pulled Jesse’s spare hat out of his backpack, the smell of alpha pheromones wafted through the air, putting Hanzo at ease almost immediately. 

“Let me see –” The old man leaned in close, taking a whiff – “The smell is quite strong. This will do nicely.” 

Humming to himself, the alpha rubbed Jesse’s hat over the length of the collar again and again. 

“What I’m doing here is transferring your alpha’s scent to this collar. When it’s around your neck, you’ll be getting a blast of alpha pheromones with every breath. And this right here -” he continued, showing him the clasp with jagged little ridges carved into the polished metal - “Will mimic his _teeth_. If you put that buckle over your mating mark, it’ll feel like Alpha’s right there with you. _Always_.” 

“…I would like that,” Hanzo admitted, realizing that, strangely enough… he meant it. He _always_ wanted to be with Jesse. …He didn’t want to fight his instincts any longer.

“Of course you’d like it. Good omegas like you still know a thing or two about loyalty. …Well? Go ahead and try it on!” he encouraged, holding the collar out to Hanzo.

Immediately, the scent of _Jesse_ hit him like a meteorite. Hands trembling with excitement, Hanzo could barely coordinate himself as he fit the collar around his neck.

“Hey, now – not so tight! I know that you miss your alpha, but you don’t want to choke yourself. When you’re just standing still, breathing normally, you shouldn’t even notice that you’re wearing it. The only place that you should feel any pressure at all is over your mating mark. Like this –” After rubbing his hands with Jesse’s hat so as not to contaminate the scent, the old man adjusted Hanzo’s collar, buckling it into place. “Perfect! Now, then, take a deep breath. Take in the scent. There… Do you feel a little better, Pet?”

In another life, Hanzo would have _screamed_ at the degradation – at that horrid little nickname and the tightness of his collar.

“I… I _do_ feel better,” he replied with a smile, grateful and relieved, “I feel so close to him…” 

Hanzo pressed his fingers against the buckle, digging the little, fake canines further into his neck. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Much to Hanzo’s surprise, the old man _did_ look glad to have helped. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t mock him. He was just… _happy_. Proud of his work. “Collar smithing, as a trade, is going under. There’s been a lot of pressure from those omega’s rights groups, and… none of my children want to learn the business. But what they don’t realize that some omegas _love_ their alphas – and that there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“…There most certainly is not,” Hanzo agreed, “Though my brother will be disappointed.”

“So what? Forget him. I know that traditional omegas are the butt of everyone’s jokes, now -” a man couldn’t scroll down a news site without seeing comics of collared omegas at dog shows everywhere – “But you stand tall. Don’t be like my son, wasting your life playing ‘alpha.’ It’s okay to be an omega; there’s plenty to be proud of in becoming a mate and mother. …You don’t have to pretend to like working or going to school. You just have to think for yourself: what is it that you want, Pet?”

There was a point in Hanzo’s life when the answer to that question had eluded him like a spirit in the fog. …But it all seemed so simple, now. So clear and so obvious.

 _What did he want, more than anything or anyone_? Hanzo smiled up at the man, bold and shameless – 

“I want to be with Alpha.”


	20. Chapter 20

“This is one hell of a welcome party!” Jesse laughed, eyes roaming over the table, as he struggled to take in the burst of familiar scents and colors – all of the ones that he’d known since he was a boy. Enchiladas, baked beans, cilantro rice… all of them, gifts from his precious omega. He struggled to imagine just what he would possibly eat first! “Look at all this food! Aw, Sunshine, you didn’t have to do any of this. …Hot _damn_ , those enchiladas smell good, though. And here I thought you said that you can’t make anything that ain’t Japanese.”

“That was an accurate statement, until today,” his little omega announced with pride, still rubbing up against him, as though he couldn’t get enough of his scent. From the very first moment that Jesse had stepped off his shuttle, Hanzo had latched right onto him, digging in, squeezing tight enough to cut off his blood circulation. “I… took the liberty of looking through your mother’s recipe cards – the ones that she had sent you, when you informed her of your mating.” 

“So, these’re my mamá’s recipes, huh? I can’t believe you made these on your first try! Everything here looks great!”

“You overestimate my abilities,” Hanzo chuckled - a charming display of omegan modesty, “This was a result of trial and error. I had thrown away countless failed attempts before creating something worthy enough for my alpha.”

Lena, watching them from the corner of the dining room, seemed to flinch back in disgust at the use of that title. “…You’d better appreciate this, Jesse,” she scolded, staring him down with a sharp, protective glare, “Hanzo stood over that stove, making the same dishes over and over. Do you have any idea how long that took him? He was up at five in the morning, cooking all this stuff for you.” 

“And I _do_ appreciate it,” Jesse shamelessly remarked, “I got a great omega; I know that. …I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

He tilted his omega’s head up and scratched lightly at his chin, like one would spoil a cat – before pushing his luck and going in for a kiss. Hanzo had always shied away from public displays of affection, but, perhaps due to joy, or love, or merely loneliness, he finally relented, allowing Jesse to do whatever he pleased.

“I didn’t mention this earlier, Han –” he mumbled, quietly, only for the two of them, “But that collar looks _great_ on you. I’m lovin’ that traditional look. Gets me all riled up just thinkin’ ‘bout it. …I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“I… thought about what you had said, regarding your mother,” Hanzo answered, pulling away from the kiss, only to grab onto Jesse’s hand and press it against that little strip of leather, “Regarding her inability to cope with the death of your father, and how her collar provided her with confidence and comfort. Jesse, I was… _lonely_ without you. Terribly lonely. Why did you insist on traveling to America, when you knew that it would separate me from you?”

“I’m sorry, Darlin’. I know it was tough for you, but the mission was in the Southwest, near a place where I used to work, when I was with Deadlock. That little stretch of highway used to be my territory, so I figured the group could use my intel.” 

“I see. Next time, however… please remember to think of me. I beg of you: never go where I cannot follow. Allow me to travel with you from now on. I do not have to work alongside you as an agent; Winston has agreed to place me in a safehouse or in an undercover position if it will ease my… separation anxiety.” 

Ah, so Hanzo could finally call it what it was, now… 

“What kind of ‘undercover’ thing are we talkin’ ’bout, here? It ain’t nothin’ dangerous, is it?”

“Not at all. I would find work in… a coffeeshop, perhaps – or a diner. Many service positions have begun to hire omegas; that is what Morrison-san told me.”

“Well, that’s true and all, but… _You_? A _waiter_? Takin’ orders and servin’ up pancakes to screamin’ kids? You’d lose your temper and tear down that restaurant the second someone looked at you sideways.” 

“I can do it,” Hanzo declared with startling confidence, “I can do _anything_ , if it is for your sake. …I want to be with you, Alpha.”

…There was an old expression that his mother always used to say: absence makes the heart grow fonder. He hadn’t thought anything of it, at the time – insufferable child as he was – but now, as an adult, Jesse realized that it was actually true. Not only had Hanzo convinced himself to wear a collar - it seemed that now, his omega was more eager to please than ever. 

Though his unsavory tactics left a bitter taste in Jesse’s mouth, he had to remind himself that the ends justified the means. 

Didn’t they?

Hanzo looked so _beautiful_ , smiling up at him with that little leather collar, cinched tight around his neck. 

…He looked _happy_ , for once in his life. When he’d first met Hanzo over a year ago, the man had been pale and sullen, stressed and angry. Angry at himself, and the world, and everyone in it. He couldn’t rest through a single evening without suffering through nightmares. …Such a drastic change. Now, his omega _purred_ in his sleep, clinging onto him for warmth. It was so endearing that Jesse didn’t even protest when Hanzo pressed his ice-cold feet against his back, or wormed them between his thighs. Jesse was just happy to help. His omega was blossoming, now. Despite the strenuous exercise regimen that Winston had recommended for him, Hanzo had actually _gained_ some much-needed weight. He always smiled when they were alone in their nest, together. 

“Oh - before I forget,” Hanzo continued, rifling around in one of the little pouches attached to his belt, “I embroidered something for you during your absence, Jesse.”

With a kind and loving smile, clashing against Hanzo’s usual, stern demeanor, he placed a little strip of cloth in Jesse’s hand. A golden handkerchief, bearing the same pattern as Hanzo’s ribbon – _seigaiha_ , he had called it, many months ago. 

It was surprisingly heavy, considering its size. 

“Did you want us to match?” Jesse laughed, sniffing at the handkerchief – and taking note of the fact that it was covered in what was _undeniably_ the scent of Hanzo’s slick. …A typical omegan nesting tactic: to give their alpha a token that would evoke the fondest memories of their mating. Something to keep him loyal. To remind Jesse, even when he was away, that he had a mate, waiting for him at home. 

“I did. My favorite ribbon was a gift from my brother, when I was a boy. I was so impressed by the goldwork at the time: the quality of the embroidery. But I have surpassed even the master who had created my most treasured accessory. …Have I not? Do you not agree than my embroidery is _better_ , Jesse?”

Fishing for compliments like a typical omega. It was _cute_ , in a way. Jesse rubbed at the back of Hanzo’s neck, rubbing circles over his mating mark through his leather collar. 

“Yeah, I gotta say, you’re pretty good.” When Hanzo frowned, he only lifted his hands in surrender – “Okay, okay – you’re the best I’ve seen! I just didn’t know you could actually sew, that’s all.”

“You forget that I am the ideal domestic partner, Jesse,” Hanzo announced, finally embracing his omegan traits… even if he couldn’t quite shrug off the occasional displays of his usual arrogance - not as though Jesse would ever have it any other way. It was just so… _him_. 

“You’re already the perfect partner – and the perfect omega.” As he stared out over the veritable feast, presented before him, Jesse found that he truly meant what he said. In every way imaginable, Hanzo was _perfect_. “I’ll pay you back someday. …How ‘bout for our next vacation, we go to Hanamura?”

“Jesse, I cannot return to my hometown,” Hanzo protested, clearly growing uncomfortable at having such intimate information relayed to the rest of the team, as well, “The remnants of the Shimada-gumi still intend to hunt for me.”

“Well, I’m wanted in America, and that don’t stop me,” he shrugged, “I’ll take care of you, Han. ...I’m gonna take you home. We’ll visit your old castle, and Rikimaru’s, and that tea shop you wanted to go to before you presented. I’ll make up for all the years you missed. …That’s a promise.”

The expression in Hanzo’s eyes almost looked like… _hope_. 

“…I love you, Alpha,” he said suddenly, without a single trace of shame or hesitation. 

Jesse just stared back, _stunned_. Since the year or so that they’d been mated, he didn’t think he’d ever heard Hanzo admit that in public. His mate was timid, after all - at least when it came to showing affection. Before Jesse had left for America, Hanzo had always struggled away when he tried to hug or kiss him in public. 

“Who are you, and what have you done with my mate?” He started to laugh, easy and casual, though it faded away in the face of Hanzo’s sincerity. “…Are you feelin’ alright, Han? You never say things like that.”

“It has occurred to me that I _should_. In the past, I have let so many words go unsaid, due to nothing more than fear or… a pointless desire to bring honor to the Shimada name. But during your absence, I came to realize what was truly important to me – and what I desired from this life that I lead. I require neither honor nor pride, Jesse. I only want to be with you.”

It felt like a dream. 

Never in his life did Jesse ever think that he would ever get to this point – becoming the alpha of a loving and traditional omega. 

“I love you, too, Han. More than anything.”

“Ugh, enough of this sappy stuff,” Hana interrupted, handing out plates, “Let’s eat!”

“Hey! This is _my_ party!” Jesse whined, though all to no avail, as the team started grabbing at tacos and scooping up salsa…

“I can make it all again tomorrow, if you would like,” his omega offered, clinging onto his arm.

“Nah. I haven’t seen you in three months, Pumpkin! …I don’t want to trap you in the kitchen or anything. Let’s take a trip tomorrow, just you and me – how’s a last-minute flight to _Paris_ sound?” he offered, wiggling his eyebrows, “… _Please say yes_. I already bought the tickets.”

“First class?” Hanzo laughed, practically overflowing with joy –

…He loved how his omega was _expecting_ luxury, now. To think that there was once a time when he had struggled to accept even the most basic of creature comforts. Currently, traditional chivalry was just their way of life. Jesse led, and Hanzo followed safely behind him. 

It was as warm, and sweet, and as simple as that.

_______________________________

In the past year, his brother had been to Paris and Venice, New York and Honolulu. There was a picture of him and Jesse on an Indonesian fishing boat hanging in their nest. Jesse was struggling to hold onto a _monster_ of a fish, flopping in his hands, while his brother was laughing, holding onto his little straw hat as it threatened to blow away in the breeze. It was next to the photo of them eating dim sum in Hong Kong. Genji knew damn well that Jesse could use chopsticks on his own, but he always played dumb with Hanzo, encouraging the omega to feed and coddle him. 

He never thought that he’d ever seen his brother looking so normal. Neither a yakuza nor a ‘little prince.’ Just… an ordinary man. Carefree and happy – for once in his life.

The contrast between the way he was now and the way he used to be, in Shimada Castle, was unbelievable. His scars had healed. He never talked about the past, any longer… but Genji? 

Genji remembered. 

Just him and his brother, sitting in the corner of his tiny, servant’s room. Hanzo’s mouth was red, covered in blistering chemical burns, the scent, so acrid that Genji’s eyes watered just thinking about it. The pain must have been unbearable. Any normal man would have rushed out, desperate for help. …But his brother never cried. He never screamed or complained.

Hanzo only hung his head - his eyes closed. Instinctively, he gasped for breath, even as he choked on his own blood time and again. More seeped between his teeth, dripping down his lower lip. Genji pressed his cheek against Hanzo’s shoulder and held him tight, crying into his servant’s yukata.

…While his brother recovered, plans had been made to move him into his mother’s old room – still in the servant’s hall, yes, but at the very least, it had a window. Even so, Genji had returned to Hanzo’s little “shoe closet” every now and again, just to stare at the fading stain of his brother’s blood, seeped into the tatami mats, if only to convince himself that it hadn’t been a nightmare. 

That his brother truly had been moments away from _death_ when he’d found him. 

…That he could no longer rely on Hanzo to scare off the bullies or make excuses for his laziness. Now, it was Genji’s turn to be _Hanzo’s_ shield. He swore it on that very day, watching the doctors lift his brother’s unconscious body, covered in blood and bile, onto the stretcher – at the end of the month when their head maid had realized that her former lord was now the lowest ranking servant in the castle.

He’d wanted to kill her for working Hanzo like a slave, even when he collapsed from hunger and exhaustion. Even when he cried when she whipped him. It took his father three more months to fire her, even after Hanzo returned from the hospital. 

Genji had felt so helpless.

It all seemed surreal, now. Had any of that actually happened. _Was that really them_? 

…Now, as a grown omega, his brother looked like the happiest man on earth. As they sat together in a little, local café, Hanzo was smiling, bright and beautiful, as he nibbled at the little wafer that came with the ridiculously sweet concoction that he’d ordered. It couldn’t even be called coffee, the way that it was, now. In the past, Hanzo would have been too ashamed to ever order something so typically omegan – and to have paid for it with an omega’s “allowance card,” of all things. It was the only form of money that an omega could legitimately use on their own. A little piece of plastic, filled with money that _his alpha_ , of all people, had allotted to him. With every pending transaction, his alpha would receive a message and either approve or deny it, based on nothing more than a whim. 

It disgusted him. 

“Thank you for inviting me out today, Anija,” he chirped with a friendly smile, regardless. Though he knew that Jesse disapproved of his relationship with Hanzo, their bond had been slowly improving, over time. His brother could finally look at him without that miserable flash of _guilt_ streaking across his eyes. “…Does Jesse know that you’re here, by the way? I figured he’d be angry that he’s basically buying me coffee.”

“He knows – and he _was_ angry,” Hanzo clarified – though he laughed all the while… “Can you imagine that? So much fuss over three pounds… I had to scold and shame him all night until he finally relented and agreed to approve my transaction. He is always spending money on me; I will never understand why he is so miserly with others.”

Oh, it wasn’t that Jesse was cheap; it was the fact that he was an _alpha_. Spending money on Hanzo was simply interpreted as the act of ‘caring’ for his omegan mate – like one would do for a pet. …But alphas were meant to be independent. Purchasing something for a rival was seen, instead, as an _offering_ \- a humble sign of great respect. By asking his mate to provide for another alpha, even if it was only a simple cup of coffee and a scone, Hanzo had inadvertently put his mate in a very awkward position. 

…Though perhaps the fact that Jesse hadn’t said anything – and that he’d agreed to pay for Genji for his brother’s sake, were good news. Perhaps there were parts of alpha behavior that Hanzo was simply better off not knowing.

“That’s your money, too, Anija. Winston still pays you, even if it’s going into Jesse’s account.”

“I… suppose that is true. I had almost forgotten.” Genji didn’t hold it against him. Earning wages was something that his brother had never even considered, until he’d joined Overwatch’s ranks. 

“Yeah, so at the very least, you should make sure you get your fair share on that card of yours.”

“Oh, I could never ask Jesse for more money. All that I ever purchase are snacks and trinkets, regardless – all unimportant items. …While Jesse pays our bills and manages our retirement fund. If anything, I should be insisting that I receive _less_ than I do, now. I need to contribute more to our family and nest.”

“No, you don’t!” Genji scolded, practically grumbling with barely constrained exasperation, “Who cooks all the food? Who does the laundry, and picks up all the _crap_ that Jesse leaves lying around? And that’s even after you get back from missions. …You do plenty, Anija.”

“But I have to do _more_. I have my reasons.” Hanzo picked up his ridiculously sugary drink… and added yet another packet of honey. “…And my reasons for bringing you here, today.”

Though a sickening sense of dread began to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, Genji’s supportive smile never wavered. “It sounds rather serious. …What is it? You can tell me anything, Anija; I’ll always be here for you.”

Reassured by his brother’s kindness, Hanzo seemed to regain the strength to continue. The omega took a deep breath, though the rise of his chest was barely visible beneath Jesse’s flowing, oversized hoodie.

_Save a horse, ride a cowboy._

“Genji,” Hanzo began, with an awkward, uncertain smile, “…I am pregnant.” 

…He couldn’t help it. At that moment, an expression of unconstrained _horror_ twisted over Genji’s face. A thousand words flashed across his mind’s eye; Genji slapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself from saying something that he would surely come to regret.

Hanzo coughed into his fist and continued. “I am going to be a mother.”

“Uh… H-How far along are you?” he asked, after what seemed like a century’s pause.

“A little over one month. Almost at the end of my first trimester.” 

It was one of the reasons why alphas and omegas had dominated the earth in the earliest years of human history. The average alpha would always be smarter and stronger than the average beta; it was only simple biology. …But what people often failed to remember was that _omegas_ were biologically superior mothers when compared to betas, as well. Their children developed quickly, ready to enter the world in only five months, compared to the typical nine. Their alpha pups inherited all of their disease immunity. While it was little more than a convenient side-benefit today, in a world where clean water and vaccines were the norm, it had been a notable boon during ancient plagues.

“Then you only have four months to go. That isn’t a lot of time to plan on what you’re going to do about this.” 

“What do you mean?” Hanzo asked, “Jesse and I will move our belongings into a larger nest, he will attempt to secure a permanent home for the two of us, and… I will raise the child.”

“Then you’re going to keep the baby? But _Anija_ , you’re… I-I don’t mean any offense, but you were always _terrified_ of giving birth. You always told me that the thought of developing a birth canal made you nauseous. That’s what you always said!”

In response to hormones secreted by the fetal placenta, a male omega’s tissues would die, selectively, leading to the development of a birth canal that would remain with him, even after the child was born. His body would be forever changed. …As a young man, Hanzo had dreaded that.

“I know. In truth, I am still afraid. But I _want_ to raise this pup. I want to raise this pup with _Jesse_.”

“Is that what this is all about? _Him_?” Genji couldn’t hide his irritation, then, bubbling above the surface. The moment Hanzo shirked away from him, however, he caught that instinctive glimpse of _fear_ in his brother’s eyes – and Genji felt like a scoundrel. “…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout – or to insult your bond with Jesse or your child. I only want to protect you. I want to make sure that you’re doing this for _you_ … and not just to please somebody else.”

“…Do you truly have such little faith in me?”

Genji grunted, running his hands down his face… He’d swore to himself, on the day that Hanzo arrived in Gibraltar, that he would never mention their battle, all those years ago, in Shimada Castle. That he would never use the past against him. But now, what choice did he have?

“It is not my intention to guilt or to belittle you, Anija, but you have a history of being pressured into making major life decisions that you later come to regret. You married Higuchi because Otou-sama wished it of you. It never crossed your mind that you could say no. …And when the elders attempted to convince you to murder me, you -”

He cut himself short as Hanzo sighed, looking just as tired, then, as he had during his time in Hanamura. Genji took his brother’s hands in his, squeezing tight. “…I apologize for reopening old wounds when we have already moved past them, but I need to make my point perfectly clear. I say this, coming from a place of love: you often allow other people to make decisions on your behalf, Hanzo. You never question them. You never think twice.”

For a lingering moment, his brother was quiet, simply staring down into his little mocha concoction, as though trying to find the answer to life’s questions in the floating bits of whipped cream.

“I rely on my alpha. …Is that so terrible?” he asked at last, with his voice, _quivering_ , “Jesse is _different_. He is an excellent provider. He never strikes me –”

Genji’s heart broke upon hearing that statement – and the pride in his brother’s expression when he said it. As though an alpha that didn’t beat him was work his weight in gold. 

“Jesse never humiliates me – not like Higuchi-san. Not like _Sojiro_. …Jesse _loves_ me.”

_He has to._

The words went unsaid, but Genji could practically sense his brother’s desperation. 

_If Jesse doesn’t love me, then who ever will?_

Genji closed his eyes and chose his words carefully, knowing that if he accidentally crossed Hanzo’s boundaries, here, then he likely wouldn’t have another chance to convince his brother to think through his options regarding the pregnancy. “Tell me this: is this the life that you had envisioned for yourself, as a boy?”

“I wanted to lead the Shimada-gumi,” Hanzo admitted with a solemn smile on the verge of breaking, “In truth… I do not particularly care for Overwatch’s mission. I have no desire to ‘save the world’ or to ‘protect its people.’ …I joined this organization for _you_ , Genji - but I am a cold and selfish man. I am a _yakuza_ ; my greatest desire, my impossible dream, is to return to Hanamura and lead our empire with _you_ , even while knowing that the Shimada-gumi are criminals, and that what what we do is evil. I feel no shame. …It is in my blood.”

“…Thank you for your honesty, Anija.” He was a little disappointed by that confession, certainly, but it wasn’t as though Genji didn’t have his suspicions. Hanzo wasn’t exactly the “hero” type like Lena or a bleeding heart like Mei. “But what you speak of, now, truly _is_ impossible.”

“Precisely. I am denied my birthright not due to a lack of dedication or ability, but due to what I _am_.”

“Maybe you can’t be some _yakuza_ , but being an omega doesn’t mean that your life is over, Anija. You can come up with a different dream. What do you want to do with your life? Do you want to open a restaurant? Well, you _can_ , if you want to. Do you want to go back to school? Torbjörn has connections in Sweden; he can help you get your high school diploma and enroll in a nice university. Do you want to -”

“If I cannot lead the Shimada-gumi as their kumichō, then the only thing that I desire, Genji, is to lead my life as a mate and mother. In truth… I am tired. Tired of hardship. Tired of… putting effort into my work, only to see it wasted. I have struggled to merely _survive_ as an omega for much of my life. Do I not deserve the opportunity to _live_ , now? I want to move on, Brother. I want to let go of the alpha that I had always wanted to be, and simply accept what I am. _This_ is the best that I can hope to accomplish. It is not particularly unpleasant. Though I perform the duties of a servant, Jesse provides me with… a fun and easy life.”

“But you have no freedom, now. He controls your finances. He controls what you _wear_ ,” Genji argued, pointing to his brother’s collar and dropping all of his pretenses, “When was the last time you took that off, Anija? Your collar no longer has a padlock, but you never remove it, anyways.”

“After so many long, tiresome years, I have finally come to realize that freedom is only a concept,” Hanzo admitted, with a tender little sigh that sapped the strength from Genji’s bones, “When I worked independently as a hired assassin, I was ‘free.’ …But look at what little I have to show for my efforts. I do not desire ‘freedom,’ Genji. …I only want to be happy. I want to be _loved_. I want an alpha – and I want to raise my pup.”

“And what are your hopes for your child?” Genji asked, placing his hand on Hanzo’s knee, stroking gently, if only to comfort him.

“…Against Jesse’s wishes, I have already performed a test that has determined that my son will be an alpha. It is not my place to determine the course of his life. …For an alpha, the opportunities are limitless. ‘Freedom’ will mean something to him. More than it has ever meant to me. Regardless of what path he walks, I will support him, just as I do for Jesse, now – and he will prosper under the guidance of the dragons that I shall bestow upon him.”

“…You are giving him your dragons?” Genji asked, stunned with shock and disappointment.

“I am only an omega. I have no skills or wisdom to pass to him. The dragons are all that I have.”

“That - and your time, and your love, and your _nutrients_ for five months. …No wonder you’ve been eating so much lately.” _Why hadn’t he noticed earlier?_

“Speaking of which… could I trouble you to purchase a pastry for me, Brother? Jesse will reprimand me if I use this card on unapproved transactions.”

Though Genji wanted nothing more than to _scream_ that McCree had no right to limit the use of Hanzo’s own income like that, he swallowed down his anger and put on his brightest smile, all for his brother’s sake. 

Happiness over freedom… 

He didn’t understand; he didn’t _want_ to understand… though perhaps he owed it to Hanzo to just _let it be_. After all, if he continued to push his own agenda, regardless of his intentions, Genji knew from experience that the ends never justified the means. 

If he pushed his brother any further, would he be just as bad as Jesse? Doubt clouded his thoughts, turning him hesitant. Shaking his head, Genji decided not to argue – at least not for the rest of the afternoon. Hanzo was pregnant; he needed support. 

…He tried to focus on that.

“Instead of a pastry, how would you like to go out to lunch, instead? Believe it or not, but a _Rikimaru_ branch opened nearby; I think that the owners are actually Japanese!”

“Truly? When was the last time we ate Rikimaru ramen?” Hanzo asked with visible excitement.

“I don’t know; it seems like an eternity,” Genji replied, _lying through his teeth_. The last time they ate Rikimaru’s together had been on a slow, Sunday morning. _Breakfast ramen_. …It had been during the lowest point of Hanzo’s life. …It would be better if he could simply forget. “So, what do you say? Want to get lunch together?”

“That would be wonderful. …I only need to call Jesse and ask for permission, first.” 

Underneath the table, Genji clenched his fists, turning his knuckles pale white. His smile never wavered, even when, internally, he _screamed_. As Hanzo pulled up his contacts list, he realized that Jesse was the very first entry - listed as "Alpha."


	21. Chapter 21

“For our next mission,” Winston announced, adjusting his glasses, “I will be splitting this group into two teams: one centered in the Temple of Anubis and another positioned in the outskirts of Giza, to serve as reinforcements. Agents Song, Shimada, and… _Sirrah McCree_ will lead the strike team.”

“It looks like we’ll be working together again, Anija!” Genji exclaimed with a cheerful smile, “You must be excited! It’s been a while since you’ve felt well enough to fight.”

The little dissolving tablets that Dr. Ziegler had prescribed for him had done wonders for his nausea.

“Indeed so. I look forward to returning to battle.” Hanzo offered his brother a polite bow that Genji quickly returned. “Perhaps we could have a friendly wager during this mission: he who has the fewest eliminations must purchase dinner for the victor that evening.” 

“Ha! Never underestimate the lengths that I will go to for a free meal! I am going to drain every last penny on your allowance card. You will rue the day you challenged me!”

“We shall see, Brother, just who defeats whom.” 

Before they could joke any further, Jesse grabbed onto Hanzo’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Hold up, Pumpkin. Are you actually goin’ along with this?”

“It is only a bout of friendly competition, Jesse…” With an awkward chuckle, Hanzo placed his hand on his alpha’s arm, as though hoping to avoid another argument. 

“Not that - I’m talkin’ ‘bout the fact that they’re sendin’ you to _Egypt_. I mean, you _can’t_ go. I won’t allow that! You gotta rearrange these teams, Winston.”

His omega looked up at him in shock and utter disbelief. While it wasn’t abnormal for an alpha to grow protective of his pregnant mate, for Jesse to just blatantly take control of his life like that… It was almost _offensive_. “Why are you so adamant about this?” 

“C’mon. Really?” With a scoff, Jesse gestured at Hanzo’s baby bump. “This ain’t just about you anymore, Han. If you go down, our pup dies with you. Think about _him_. You’re better off here, where it’s safe. Okay? Just… put away your little bow, kick your feet up, and watch some TV or something. You’re stayin’ in Gibraltar, and that’s final.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Hanzo hissed, scowling at his mate, “Are you attempting to forbid me from travelling?”

“Oh, I ain’t ‘attemptin’’ nothin’. I _do_ forbid it. You’re stayin’ here.”

“I most certainly am not. You do not have the right to speak to me in such a manner! Nor do you have the right to bark out commands as though you are my father!” Gods… He could feel another migraine coming on, threatening to burst through the dam. With a pained groan, Hanzo clutched at his forehead and could have sworn that the flesh was _pulsing_. Wiping at his sweat-soaked brow, he took another sip from his water bottle – the third one that morning. He’d been so agitated lately.

The alcohol withdrawal was taking a toll on him. It was only after he’d gotten pregnant that Hanzo realized how much he drank.

In the past, he’d never travelled without a full gourd of sake – and he always managed to empty it by nightfall. After Genji’s death, forced to travel the world alone, sake helped to numb that constant throb of stress, and guilt, and loneliness hammering away into his skull. Eventually, he supposed that it had simply become… a _habit_.

With their child soon coming into the world, he’d given it all up – just as Jesse had agreed to throw away his own “secret stash.” They’d both been dependent, he supposed. As silly as it seemed, they’d actually wept a little, holding each other in a tight embrace as they threw everything they had down into the garbage chute. Everything. Jesse’s aged bourbon. Hanzo’s precious drinking gourd. Jesse’s cigarillos and chewing tobacco, Hanzo’s antique pipe -

There were warm, pleasant memories in those items – though perhaps those memories were better left in the past. 

It had been difficult to let go. He and Jesse had been miserable ever since, screaming at each other, arguing during meals and movies – and all about nothing. This was just the latest confrontation in a seemingly endless chain. Both of them were tense, exhausted, and sick. They couldn’t help it. 

“I tire of your constant interference in my life, Jesse. As your omega, I have allowed you to manage my finances and my schedule without complaint. I _volunteered_ to serve as your house omega, but I have not so much as _held_ Storm Bow in three weeks. For the sake of my own sanity, I cannot remain in this watchpoint, _washing dishes_ , for a single moment longer. I finally have my nausea until control; I am prepared for battle. While I neither need nor desire your permission, out of respect for you as my alpha, I will ask, regardless: will you permit me to travel to Egypt?”

McCree leaned over, though for once, Hanzo didn’t relent. Instead, he merely stared back at the man - their faces, mere inches apart. For a moment, both of them sat still, silently challenging the other to back down… until Jesse tilted his head with mock playfulness, poking Hanzo’s nose as though he were nothing more than a child – or a dog. 

“ _No_.”

It took every ounce of discipline he had left not to shove his mate away from him. 

“…When do we depart, Winston?” Hanzo asked, instead – his voice, smooth and monotone.

“That would be… 1700 this evening.”

“Then I shall meet you in the docking bay.” As he stood to leave, however, Jesse’s hand clamped down upon his wrist like a vice, dragging him back into his chair.

“Oh, no you don’t! You ain’t _killin_ ’ my baby!”

“Your baby? … _Your_ baby?!” Oh, that was _it_! His rage broiled over; Hanzo couldn’t hold it in! His head was _pounding_. His ankles were swollen, his nipples were sore – and _still_ , Jesse wanted to argue.

Surrounded by the team or not, he wasn’t about to allow his own mate to walk all over him. 

“Pray tell, Jesse, what have you done to stake your claim on this pup? The two of you share nothing but genetics! You do not ‘love’ him. You have not made a single sacrifice for him! How can you say he is yours when you are not even the one who is _carrying_ this pup? …You are not the one who has developed… high blood pressure and _diabetes_ as a _result_ of carrying him! You claim to care and yet you do nothing to aid either of us! Can you so much as fathom how much I _detest_ injecting insulin three times a day? _Why do I have to nag you to help me?!_ You should volunteer! It is difficult for me to bend over. My stomach is _horrendously_ inflamed from the injections. My ankles are swollen and aching! I have chronic heartburn! I am sick, and tired, and… and despite it all, I cook, and I clean, and I take care of your _filthy_ den. And what do I receive for my efforts? Not even a single word of thanks. I do not need expensive vacations and luxury coats, Jesse. I just want to feel as though I am not doing all of this for nothing…”

“Ooh, you want me to pat you on the back every time you brush your goddamn teeth, too, Han? You’re a grown-ass omega! A mate and a mother! You don’t get a medal for doin’ the shit you’re _supposed_ to do!”

“Well, then, at the very least, you could make an effort not to make my job any more tedious than it already is! When I return from a mission, I should very well have the opportunity to rest and tend to my wounds, but every time I step into our nest, I find that you have turned it into a _pigsty_ , during my absence! Why do you allow the laundry and the dishes to pile up while I am gone?! Have you forgotten how to wash a simple cup? Can I not return home to a clean nest for _once in my life_?! Even while I am here, you make a mess! Why do you insist on throwing your dirty clothing onto the floor when the laundry hamper is a mere two feet away from you? Do you earnestly believe that your clothing magically finds its way to the hamper at the end of the night? _I_ am the one who picks it up! You are creating extra work for me – your _pregnant mate_! You leave your clothing out, you never soak your dishes – and _why_ must you place your dirty feet on top of _my_ chair when you watch the television?!” 

…He was being petty, and childish, and nitpicky – he knew that. And yet, this was the first time he’d ever said anything about his growing dissatisfaction with his life. Once the floodgates opened, there was no stopping the deluge.

“What – you think I’m psychic, Han? How am I supposed to know what bothers you when you’ve never complained about this shit before?!”

“Why have you never _asked_ how I felt, playing the role of your _mother_?! …I held my tongue because you are my alpha, and I _love_ you. …But you do so many little things to _infuriate_ me that it almost appears as though you see me as less of a mate and more of a _servant_. You have done nothing to aid me or this pup during my time of hardship. You can say whatever you would like, but before he is your baby, he is _mine_!”

“Oh, is that what you think about me? You think I don’t do shit for you? You know how many times I had to call up my sister and beg for money to pay for all your _useless crap_?! You think I like havin’ you wake me up at two in the mornin’ to get you a cup of tea or pickles and ice cream ‘cause you’re too damn lazy to do it yourself? _‘Oooooh but Jesse my feet hurt!’_ I don’t give a damn! Stop wakin’ me up at night! I’m exhausted!”

“How do you imagine _I_ feel?! I have not slept through a single night in ten days - and now I learn that my own mate could not care less!”

“You think you’re tired?! I haven’t slept in ten days, either, with you always whinin’, and bitchin’, and pressin’ your goddamn, _ice cold feet_ on my back. You steal the blankets, you know that? You leave me with fuckin’ _nothing_ at night, just like you always do! You’re a fuckin’ _black hole_! Suckin’ up my money, and my time, and my _fuckin’ life_ -”

“You think that _I_ am a burden on _you_? _You_ are the burden!” Hanzo growled, even as his brother held onto his shoulders, physically stopping him from _clawing_ at Jesse’s face. Even as the rest of the team tried to intervene in their own ways.

“Why are you so angry? You love each other! Let’s just try to get along, okay? Let’s calm down and talk this through later.” Lúcio offered.

“I know that you are both tired, but fighting isn’t going to solve anything…” Mei pleaded.

Hanzo only shouted over them both - “I have to do _everything_ for you! And all that you ever do in return is complain about my cooking! Well, if you are tired of Japanese cuisine, Jesse, then by all means, _make something yourself_!”

“Well, maybe I will!” his alpha shouted, slamming his hands against the table and pushing himself to his feet, “Or, hell, maybe I’ll take a second omega. One that ain’t a _fuckin’ useless cunt_!” 

 

The entire world came to a screeching halt. Jesse stared at Hanzo, and Hanzo stared right back – the both of them, wide-eyed and silent. 

…A second omega? It wasn’t an impossibility. His own uncle had six or seven mates. Hanzo only ever saw them in passing. They lived in separate houses, all alone, with no servants, no pups… no alpha. They were just trophies. Prizes to be won and paraded. Sons and daughters of rival clans, given away as reparations or tokens of goodwill. Nobody ever talked about them. Nobody ever cared. They were just… forgotten.

Would Jesse do that to him? While he had never questioned his alpha’s loyalty in the past, a tiny little seed of _doubt_ had been planted in Hanzo’s brain.

“Shit…” With the wind knocked out of him, Jesse collapsed back down into his chair. He rubbed his fingers against his tired eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I’m –” 

Hanzo’s vision blurred; he pushed himself to his feet and stormed out of the room before anyone could notice the fact that he was weeping. Though he never looked back, he could tell that Jesse tried to follow him. He heard the little click of his spurs – and the _anger_ in his brother’s voice as he shoved Jesse against the wall, berating him.

Even after the meeting had ended, he didn’t want to talk to him. 

Hanzo spent the rest of the day on the rooftop, returning to his nest only once the sun had set… but surprisingly, Jesse was nowhere to be found. Despite his residual anger, instinctively, a part of him was _worried_.

Worried that a terrible fate could have befallen his alpha - worried about the risk of infidelity. 

The seconds became minutes became hours… all dragging on like centuries. 

One in the morning, and still no Jesse.

Hanzo curled up in his blankets and pressed his fingers down upon his collar, digging the buckle into his neck. Despite their argument, the memory of his mating still brought him comfort. Slowly, a heavy, despondent weariness fell over him, suffocating him into a fretful sleep. 

He awoke two hours later to the gentle clink of porcelain against wood. He couldn’t help but groan as he struggled to roll over, taking some strain off of his back. When he did, however, he saw him: Jesse, with his eyes, red and swollen. A little pile of tissues had collected on the carpet – though when he finally noticed that Hanzo was awake, Jesse picked up the tissues and tossed it into the garbage can not two feet away from him. 

He was drinking the little cup of herbal tea that Hanzo had prepared for him every evening, as a little gesture of love. Despite everything, though it was more than Jesse deserved at the time, Hanzo still chose to prepare it, even when they argued. He was a good omega, after all. Even though the tea had already grown cold that evening, sitting on their table for hours on end, Jesse still refused to waste it. At the very least, he was considerate enough not to stick it in the microwave and disturb what little rest Hanzo would get for the evening.

After a long moment’s pause, his alpha finally spoke, sounding so tired… “You want me to sleep on the sofa, tonight?” 

“You are the alpha in this relationship,” Hanzo muttered, rolling back over to face the wall and trying his damnest to go back to sleep, “You may do whatever you please.”

“If I can do whatever I want… then I want to be next to you.” With a strange hesitancy that he’d never seen from Jesse in the past, his alpha slowly crawled into bed, inch by inch, as though ready to flee with his tail between his legs at the first sign of Hanzo’s anger. As though desperate for affection, Jesse wrapped his arms around his mate, holding Hanzo close to him – burying his nose in his hair, taking in his scent. “I _always_ want to be with you.”

Hanzo didn’t respond. 

Together, side by side, they just laid there for a moment, lost in thought. 

“I’m sorry, Han,” Jesse finally admitted, squeezing him tighter, “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know this ain’t an excuse, but I didn’t know that I was… pickin’ on your insecurities… and everything. Your brother filled in the gaps. Told me that you got a long history of gettin’ stabbed in the back. He told me about the polygamy that goes on in families like yours - and about the politics and betrayal behind it… and all that crap. And it wasn’t just the bluebloods. He told me that there was a maid in your old castle who used to do some pretty messed up shit to you – and that she used to cuss at you, callin’ you the exact same things I did this mornin’. I didn’t know. …I’m sorry.”

“I do not wish to speak about it any further. Just be quiet and go to sleep.”

But Jesse only shook his head, pressing on. “Genji told me that you and that maid actually used to be pretty close when you were a kid, ‘specially after your momma died. But it turned out she was only nice because she thought she had to be. ‘Cause your pa was payin’ her, and everything. I know that you trusted her, but the second she got any authority over you, she didn’t even hesitate to stab you in the back –”

“I said: _stop speaking_ ,” Hanzo insisted, elbowing his mate in the stomach, “Just go. To sleep.”

“…Well, I’ll never betray you. Not ever.” The warmth of Jesse’s body was almost suffocating, burning him alive. “I _really_ didn’t mean it. You’re the only omega I want. Just you. I won’t ever talk like that again, no matter how pissed off I get. That’s a promise. …I love you, Han; I love you so goddamn much it hurts.” 

“Do you?” Hanzo asked, though his voice lacked its usual edge. He was just too tired to fight. 

…Why, _why_ , did Jesse insist on pestering him? 

“I love you to the moon and back. More than I’ve ever loved anyone before. More than I love my sisters, my mamá… Jack, Gabe, Santa Fe, Peacekeeper, and Jesus Christ, Himself. The one I love most, more than anyone, is you.”

Oh, he doubted that. His uncertainty and his fear had been festering since their argument this morning, and now, Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder: did Jesse love him – or the idea of him? A mate and a mother and nothing else.

“…What is my favorite color, Jesse?”

“Blue.”

Hanzo scoffed, grumbling against his pillow. ...Just as he was about to order Jesse to get off of him, to spend the night on the sofa or preferably out in the hallway, his alpha continued, cradling him like a precious treasure. 

“You always act like you’re so high and mighty.” He could feel Jesse smiling against the back of his neck… “Like you need to show the world you’re better than other people – and yeah, it’s true, in a lot of ways: you’re pretty damn great. God knows I ain’t shit compared to you. But acting like you’re this perfect ninja all the time means that… you gotta pretend you’re too good for the fun things, too. Don’t you? You gotta go around pretendin’ you hate fun. That’s you’re too good for games, and dancin’, and… favorite colors. But when we go out and you got your choice of kimonos, you pick a blue one nine times out of ten. ...Did you know that?”

“…No.”

“It took me a while to notice,” Jesse chuckled, weaving their fingers together, “It’s the same thing for accessories. When we were lookin’ through those ribbons at the farmer’s market the other day, they had every color under the sun. Every pattern, too. You could’ve had the one covered in pearls or the fancy one with silver stitchin’… but you chose the plain blue one. ‘Beauty in simplicity,’ or whatever you always say. Right? …Look, I ain’t tellin’ you to change; the others can go on thinkin’ you’re a hardass if that’s what you want. But it’s okay to be a little childish sometimes, you know? You’ve got nothin’ left to prove, Han. You don’t have to be perfect to be someone worthwhile. You can make mistakes. We can fight sometimes. I don’t care. …I want to be with you.”

Hanzo pressed his hand against his mouth to stop himself from sobbing, even as he tucked his knees against his chest, letting himself cry into his little nest of pillows. In response, Jesse only held him tighter, safe and secure. _Loved_.

He felt... loved.

“You don’t gotta pretend to be larger than life, anymore. I love you just the way you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments! Please do keep them coming - I appreciate them!
> 
> I just have one thing to say, however: you don't have to inform me if you're going to stop reading this story. It's perfectly okay for you to just unsubscribe! I have been receiving a curious influx of those kinds of comments, lately, and I just wanted to make sure that nobody felt obligated to tell me, for one reason or another, whether it's because one person started the chain, or what have you.
> 
> Regardless, thank you for reading thus far, especially as this story comes to its final arc!


	22. Chapter 22

“How do you feel, Sweet Pea? Think you can walk today?” 

Hanzo prodded at his legs, staring at the little indentations that remained against his swollen skin. That was just what he deserved, he supposed, for ignoring the good doctor’s medical advice to elevate his legs and cut back on the salt, for once in his life. Instead, last evening, he sat around, watching classic movies with Jesse and eating greasy American foods that he only ever enjoyed while pregnant. 

The last ten days had felt like more of a vacation than all of the exotic adventures that he’d taken in the past two years: just sitting in the nest while his mate took care of the cooking and cleaning, all of the work that Hanzo normally handled. A redistribution of chores had been part of their “negotiations,” after their argument. If one of them fell ill, the other would step up and assume full responsibility for everything: work, family, and nest. Similarly, if Hanzo would be confined to the watchpoint during his pregnancy, then Jesse would remain with him. No more running off on missions without each other; from now on, alpha and omega would be a proper team. 

Even so, they had agreed that after the pup was born, rearing him would be primarily Hanzo’s duty. He had insisted on breastfeeding, after all, considering the articles that he’d read about the benefits of it. He didn’t believe in bottles and powdered formula, or even the concept of reheating breastmilk. 

While it was agreed upon that he and Jesse would travel together as mates, Hanzo would never again take up arms. Jesse would fight, and his omega would stay in the hotel with their pup. 

“No. I fear that my ankles have swollen up to… a circumference thicker than my arms,” Hanzo admitted, still staring at his legs.

“Let me take a look.” With a little grunt, Jesse knelt before him, tugging off his omega’s slippers. “Oh… shit. Are you gonna be okay durin’ the flight, Pumpkin? You want me to reschedule?”

“That will not be necessary. Mother is expecting us. It would be rude to change the date of our visit at such short notice.” Despite his insistence, Hanzo wasn’t quite certain how he would survive such a long flight, all the way to Santa Fe.

Jesse tilted his head with a playful smile. “You don’t have to call her that, you know?”

“It is better to show respect to one’s elders. If Mother would prefer another title, then she may recommend one for herself, upon our meeting.”

His alpha lifted his hands in surrender before picking him up from the bed and placing him into the wheelchair that they’d ordered just for situations like this. Before his alpha could secure him in, however, Hanzo interrupted with an insistent tug on Jesse’s serape. 

“Before we go to breakfast, Jesse, can you help me with… my birth canal?” He struggled just to say those words. As the birth canal slowly opened over his third trimester, Hanzo had begun to experience episodes of pain, discomfort, bloating - and even _bleeding_. Despite it being part of his own body, he couldn’t bring himself to clean that horrid little _gash_ on his own. He didn’t want to touch himself down there, in a place on his body that was alien to him. 

A part that he felt just didn’t belong.

As Jesse brought him into the bathroom and brushed away his yukata and fundoshi, Hanzo averted his eyes, refusing to look at what opened up between his legs. He hissed when Jesse finally took a damp washcloth and pressed it against the folds of his birth canal, wiping away the blood and the loose tissue. 

“Sorry. Did that hurt?”

“No… but it does not feel natural.” 

“It really doesn’t look that bad,” Jesse insisted, attempting to reassure him, “It’s… kind of like a clamshell type of thing. It’s all red now, but durin’ your last appointment, Angie said the swellin’ would go down about a week before you’re due, right?”

“Whether the inflammation goes away or not is irrelevant. I do not wish to see this birth canal. I do not wish to feel it. I do not wish to _think_ about it: this _thing_ that is essentially a -” 

_Vagina_. 

It was a vagina. The very thought of it made Hanzo shudder in absolute horror. As if he understood his omega’s struggle, Jesse put the washcloth aside and looked up at him, warm and sincere.

“…It doesn’t make you any less of a man, you know.” The second he looked at Jesse, his mate flinched back, as though waiting to be struck by a crackling bolt of anger. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a birth canal. What you look like or what happens to your body doesn’t change who you are.”

“Does it not?” Hanzo scoffed, mercilessly cruel, even to himself.

“Well, even after losin’ his body, Genji’s still your brother, ain’t he? He’s still the little shit who runs around causin’ trouble for you. He laughs with you, cries with you… He’s still a man. Don’t you think so?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then if he can still be human in that robot body, why can’t you still be a man?” Jesse took his hand and moved it lower, _lower_ , towards that little spot behind his penis. Immediately, Hanzo tugged his hand away at the first touch of his fingers against those folds. 

“I am not ready for this, Jesse. Please… I do not wish to speak of it any further.”

“…Okay.” Though he sounded somewhat disappointed, his alpha pulled away, washing his hands before rearranging Hanzo’s clothes and putting him back into his wheelchair. As Jesse pushed him across the watchpoint, they spoke of only pleasant things: places they would go and landmarks they would see. Though he didn’t say a word about it, Hanzo was grateful that Jesse didn’t test his boundaries any further. 

When they arrived at breakfast, Genji had already lain out a plate of waffles for each and every team member, including his brother – and his brother-in-law. 

“Do you really have to use the wheelchair again, Anija? It kind of reminds me of Okaa-san,” he sighed. Strangely enough, upon his return to Gibraltar, Genji seemed almost disappointed that he and Jesse had reconciled. 

“How much do you remember about her?” Hanzo asked, if only out of morbid curiosity.

“Not much. Only that she shouted at me when I snuck into her garden and picked all of her flowers.”

Even Hanzo remembered that. Out of childish anger, Genji had gone and told their father. Their mother didn’t join them for supper that evening. Later on, in the middle of the night, when Hanzo had awoken to fetch himself a glass of water, he heard screaming coming from his parents’ bedroom. 

When his mother joined them for breakfast the next morning, he noticed that some of her fingernails were missing. 

She stopped speaking to Genji entirely, after that. ...And it wasn’t much longer until she was gone.

Without knowing the significance of what had happened, Jesse was still able to laugh. “You know, my mamá banned alphas from her garden, too, after me and my pa pulled out her sweet potato patch, thinkin’ they were weeds. ’A garden ain’t no place for bumblin’ alphas.’ That’s what she always used to say.” 

He turned to his mate with a charming wink – “Maybe Mamá will let _you_ in, though, Pumpkin. Birds of a feather, and everything.”

“I doubt that,” he replied, as his brother placed a little cup of tea in front of him, “Mother does not seem particularly fond of me.”

After all, he _was_ stealing her home…

Traditionally, omegan widows had the right to stay in their old alpha’s den until their eldest child found a mate. After that, the “ancestral nest” would fall to their pup. As for what happened to the widow themselves, that would depend entirely on whether their child was willing to care for them. Some omegas, like Jesse’s mother, were given new homes, while others were simply thrown to the wayside. 

Hanzo hoped that he wouldn’t outlive Jesse - or if he did, he hoped that his pup would love him enough to treat him in the same way that Jesse treated his mother, instead of abandoning him to the wolves. 

“She’s a little prickly around strangers,” Jesse admitted, “But she’ll warm up to you.”

“Will she? I overheard your conversation on the phone with her the other day, when you were discussing the details of our visit. What was it that she said about me? That I could… ‘sleep in the barn?’”

“Y-You ain’t sleepin’ in the barn, Han…” he reassured, though all with an embarrassed sigh, “Look, I already told her to be nice, but if she can’t, if she gives you a hard time, we’ll pack our bags and stay in a hotel. …Still, I’d like it if the two of you could get along. She means a lot to me, you know?”

Hanzo considered that statement for only a moment. “I will treat her with the respect that she deserves.” 

…Let Jesse interpret that as he wanted.

______________________________

Upon their arrival to the McCree homestead, Jesse dragged their luggage out of the trunk of their cab and gently helped Hanzo out of the back seat. Having spent most of the flight with his feet propped up on Jesse’s lap, the swelling in his legs had finally gone down. At the very least, he could walk on his own, again… for now. 

Just as Jesse tipped the driver, the shrill sound of a woman’s voice pierced through the air with trembling excitement. “ _Mijo_!” 

“Mamá!” 

Mother and son embraced like they hadn’t seen each other in ages... She stroked his hair, pressing kisses along his cheek, holding him tight.

“Oh, Mijo, look at you! You’re so skinny! Doesn’t that _lazy omega_ of yours cook for you?” she scoffed, as Hanzo just stood there, mere inches away from her.

“He’s, uh… He’s right there…” Jesse chuckled, unable to hide his growing discomfort.

“ _This_ is your mate? I thought you said your omega’s name was ‘Hannah.’ That’s a woman’s name!” she laughed, gesturing towards him, “Well, I suppose that they bring their boys up different in the east. What kind of Oriental are you, anyhow?” 

“M-Mamá! You can’t say things like that! ...It’s _Asian-American_ , now.”

“…I am not American,” Hanzo commented, squeezing at his nose bridge with an exasperated grumble, embarrassed and mortified on behalf of his own mate.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were. So, where are you from, Hannah?”

“My name is Hanzo.”

“He’s from _Japan_ , Mamá. From a little town called Hanamura, little bit south of Tokyo.” Jesse stepped in front of him, as though attempting to shield him from his mother’s verbal onslaught.

“Ooh, Tokyo! That’s fancy,” she continued with a playful lilt, undeterred, “Just like _you_ , with your pretty little ribbon. Here’s hopin’ you ain’t _too_ fancy for humble ol’ Santa Fe. We’re simple farmin’ folk here.”

“Jesse told me that you have planted quite a sprawling garden,” he remarked, eager to change the subject.

“I have. I’m very proud of it. In fact, I’ll be usin’ tomatoes from that garden to make salsa tonight. …Do you know how to make salsa, Pup?”

 _Pup_? Nobody had called him that since he was a toddler…

“Yes. In fact, I do,” he answered with all of the courtesy expected from a proper son-in-law, “Thank you for your recipes, Mother. Jesse quite enjoyed them.”

“O-Oh. You… actually made ‘em.” She looked up at him with a stunned expression, as though she couldn’t believe that he’d actually used those recipe cards. 

“Jesse grew tired of Japanese cuisine, so I attempted to cater to his tastes.”

“He’s a traditional omega,” Jesse bragged, throwing his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, “Real master in the kitchen.”

“Well, then maybe this ‘master chef’ would like to help me prepare the salsa.”

…Fantastic. He was sore and tired, and yet somehow, despite it all, he’d already been roped into helping with household chores. He couldn’t exactly refuse, after all. Whether he liked her or not, this was his _mother-in-law_ , asking for aid. Irritated by Jesse’s big mouth, always creating trouble for him, Hanzo slammed his foot down onto his mate’s toes, grinding them into the floor.

To his credit, Jesse didn’t utter a single peep.

______________________________

The two omegas sat in awkward silence, picking tomatoes and tending to the garden. 

For such an objectively simple task, Hanzo was failing spectacularly. Every tomato that he picked ended up bruised or broken in some way. He was too rough, too aggressive…

“You ain’t too good at this, are you?” Jesse’s mother _hissed_ , grabbing the latest, ruined tomato out of his hand.

Stabbing his little garden trowel into the dirt, Hanzo couldn’t help but growl, unable to repress his growing irritation. “You were accurate in your earlier judgement, ‘Mother.’ I was born to a prominent family and raised as an alpha. So, _no_ – I do not imagine that I am particularly skilled at gardening.”

“Raised as an alpha, huh?” she taunted, “Guess some things in life just don’t work out.”

“No. They most certainly do not.”

There was a time when he’d told his own mother that gardening was beneath him, and yet, here he was, mated and _pregnant_ , the very model of a traditional omega, kneeling in a garden prodding at tomatoes. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. And yet, he couldn’t truly complain. The sun was perfectly warm, shining down on his little blue yukata. A gentle breeze flowed through his hair. A fuzzy little bumblebee landed on his fingers. 

It wasn’t quite as thrilling as hunting down foes with Storm Bow in hand, perhaps, but… it was a pleasant distraction in its own way. 

“You come from a pureblooded family, then?” his mother asked, her curiosity likely getting the better of her. Pureblooded families were rare, nowadays.

“Yes. My original family name was… Shimada. It is an ancient clan, dating back to the era of the samurai. Every son and daughter born into our clan has been an alpha. I am the first omega in our bloodline, dating back to the beginning of our records.” 

Strangely enough, the old woman didn’t make a single joke. Instead, she only hummed, a low, pensive sound, before continuing without her usual sarcasm: “That must’ve been tough. Most pureblooded families are pretty old-fashioned. I take it they didn’t exactly celebrate your presentation.”

“They did not.” He shook his head, losing himself in unpleasant memories for a moment, before he tried to focus back on the charming little tomatoes in his mother-in-law’s garden. “I tainted my bloodline and dishonored my house. …Though my brother is an alpha, he has rejected any claims to the Shimada clan. Our family line, centuries old, will die with us… for good or for ill.”

“What about your pup? He’s an alpha, ain’t he? Your ‘pureblooded’ line goes on with him.”

“He will follow _your_ line, instead. That is why Jesse and I have visited Santa Fe. This child will be raised as an American – as _Jesse’s_ heir.” Hanzo chuckled, sincerely amused, for once, but… with a hint of scathing self-depreciation that he was certain Jesse’s mother could recognize. “I am only the one who will care for him.”

“Hey, now, don’t talk like that,” she scolded, though with a motherly kind of concern that he’d never received in the past, “You ain’t ‘only’ anything. You’re his _momma_ : that’s a special privilege, you know? You’ll be the most influential person in that little alpha’s life. Don’t you know that? Think about your own momma; what kind of bond do you have with them?”

“My mother died when I was young, before I presented.”

Regardless of her apparent disdain for him, she looked away with an apologetic frown. “Damn. I’m sorry, Pup. That must’ve been hard; omegan kids need their mommas.”

“I doubt that she would have comforted me. For the short time that I had known her, the two of us were never close. I mistreated her, _severely_ , when I was a boy… when I still thought of myself as my father’s heir.” 

He could finally accept those feelings for what they were: sorrow, guilt, regret, shame, anger – all directed at his own, misguided chauvinism. It was only after he presented that Hanzo finally understood how terribly he had treated her. 

“If she could meet you now, knowin’ all the shit you put up with, she’d forgive you.” 

“…And how do you know that?”

“Mistreatin’ omegan mothers is actually a little more common than you’d think. I was a little shit to my momma, too,” she commented, as though trying to reassure him, “My pa pushed her around, and… well, I was a bit of a daddy’s girl when I was a kid. Monkey see, monkey do. I bossed my momma around, I made messes on purpose, I made fun of her… but you know what? After I presented, I learned who really loved me. Daddy didn’t want to talk to me anymore, ‘cept when he was barkin’ out orders. I felt so betrayed by him, I just cried and cried down there in the kitchen with my momma. She could’ve laughed in my face and I would’ve deserved it, but instead, she let it go, and she took me under her wing. That’s just what mommas do. They forgive, and they step up when their pups really need it. Omegas are tough like that. We can forgive just about anything – not that we’ll forget. But we really are the strongest sex, you and me. The alphas can’t see it, but _we_ can… can’t we, Pup? We know damn well that alphas and betas wouldn’t last a day in our shoes. Not when bein’ an omega means givin’ up your dreams to help make other peoples’ come true.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at his mate’s expense. “Can you imagine Jesse with swollen ankles and _urinary incontinence_? He would never stop complaining…”

“Oh, he’s a bit of a whiner, alright. He don’t ever _call it_ whinin’, but that’s what it is.” Jesse’s mother closed her eyes, taking off her little straw hat to bask in the warm, summer sun. “…Do you love him, despite all that?”

“Of course I do,” Hanzo answered, blinking back at her with confusion and uncertainty, “Amongst Hanamura’s traditional families, omegas are placed into arranged matings for the sake of financial or political gain on behalf of our clans. I am likely the first omega in my mother’s bloodline to ever have the right to choose my alpha.” 

She couldn’t help but smile, proud and radiant. “And out of all the alphas in the world, you chose my Jesse.”

“He is a fine alpha. When I presented, in the eyes of those around me, I became an omega and nothing else – a little doll, to be altered and sold. …But Jesse makes me feel human again.”

“...You’re a good pup – you know that? I’m sorry for bein’ so rough on you,” she finally admitted, brushing a bit of dirt off of his yukata, “I mean it. But when you give birth and finally hold your little baby in your arms, you’ll understand why I gotta look out for Jesse. You always gotta be on guard; you’ll do anything to protect your baby. Even when they’re almost forty years old, they’ll always be your little pup, with scraped knees and missin’ teeth.”

“Some days, I cannot even believe that I am pregnant. I never imagined that I would survive this long. That I would ever find a mate - or become a mother.”

A strange, somber expression flitted over the older omega’s features. She looked away, twisting the fabric of her dress between her fingers. 

“Did you try to end it, too?” What did she mean by that? Was she implying what he _thought_ she was implying? “It’s okay if you did; I ain’t judgin’. I’ve never met a traditional omega, religious or not, that hadn’t tried at least once. Tough as you look, I didn’t think you’d be an exception. You look like the serious type – fancy and untouchable, like nothin’ could ever bother you – but it’s _lonely_ , bein’ an omega. It’s hard.”

“Would you have preferred to have presented as an alpha?”

“ _Who wouldn’t_?” she laughed, “Bein’ an alpha’s like winnin’ the lottery! …I would’ve been able to take over my daddy’s diner, but instead, without no heirs, now it’s closed. We made the best friend chicken. People used to come ‘round from miles away. That diner was his pride and joy, but Daddy would’ve rather closed it down than let an omega run the place. Back in those days, omegas in this country still had to be shipped off to cotillion academies if they wanted to find a halfway decent mate – so when I was about… sixteen or seventeen, my parents shipped me off to Grissom’s School for Omegas when I presented, and I stayed there, gettin’ trained, until they sold me off to Jesse’s daddy.” 

So at some point in her life, she, too, had been nothing more than a commodity. Hanzo couldn’t help but think about his own father, training him, abandoning him, all to pair him off with _Higuchi_ , of all people. “What was your alpha like? Was he… older?”

“No – I was lucky. He was rich – for our standards, anyway – and my parents liked him. But the thing that I cared about was that he had a kind face, and he promised he’d never hit me. He was gentle and patient, but I was still mad at him at first, for thinkin’ he could just buy me like a cow. I didn’t exactly treat him right, but he never stopped bein’… _nice_. He never insulted my cookin’, even when I knew I messed it up. He didn’t touch me until I was ready. Oh, I warmed up to him, _fast_. I was happy for a while, but… it gets lonely, knowin’ you ain’t really livin’ your life, and instead, you’re just the princess in someone else’s story. I kind of just accepted that I’d never be as happy as was when I was a girl, helpin’ out in my daddy’s diner. But you just wait and see, Pup. It’ll be different when you become a momma. I’d never been happier than the day I gave birth to Jesse – and I’ve been walkin’ on sunshine ever since. There ain’t no joy greater than omegan motherhood. Considerin’ all the garbage we have to put with, you and me are at least lucky that we get to be mommas.”

“I do not intend to sound ungrateful, but… I do not yet derive any joy from motherhood. Did you love Jesse before he was born? I do yet not know if I truly feel anything for this… _creature_ growing inside of me.”

“When you give birth to your pup, you’ll be kickin’ yourself for callin’ him a ‘creature.’ Now, I ain’t scoldin’ you; I’m just talkin’ from experience. …Honestly, I didn’t really like Jesse when he was still inside of me. To tell you the truth, I _resented_ him. ‘The little parasite.’ That’s what I used to call him when I talked to my momma on the phone, afraid and cryin’ my eyes out. I felt like my life was over. But after I gave birth to him, after they placed this ugly, shriveled up little raisin in my arms… I noticed that under the blood and the sweat, Jesse… _smelled like me_. ‘Like me’ but better. A _thousand_ times better. Like everything that was good in me – and everything that was good in his daddy. I couldn’t help fallin’ in love with him. It’s hard to explain, but… you’ll know he’s yours: somethin’ precious that you made, all by yourself.” 

“Well… not entirely by myself.”

“Nope. Don’t be modest. You made him by yourself. Jesse’ll try to take some credit, just like all alphas do, but it’s really the _omegas_ who do all the work. You’ll carry that boy for five months, you’ll suckle him for longer, you’ll change his diapers and teach him how to walk. In the end, you’ll _want_ to stay at home with him. You’ll look back at that job you always wanted, or that school you wanted to go to – or in your case, that samurai clan thing - and it’ll seem so insignificant next to what you already got. You’ll think about everything you ever sacrificed and know that you’d give it up all over again, a hundred thousand times, just to have the chance to plead Jesus to let you be that boy’s momma again in the next life. …Take it from an omega who’s been exactly where you are, now. It’ll be worth it.”

Hanzo placed a tentative hand on his baby bump, which had grown so large that he could no longer see down to his feet, and for the first time, he felt _hopeful_ regarding his pregnancy. Perhaps he would come to love this child, after all. …Perhaps he wouldn’t be like his mother. 

“Now, c’mon! Buck up!” Jesse’s mother teased, gently jostling his shoulder, “You tell Momma now: have you ever had a homegrown strawberry before, Pup?”

“N-No.” Hanzo replied, smiling at the sincerity of her motherly affection, “As a boy, I rejected my mother’s offer when she invited me into her garden.”

“Well then, here’s your second chance.” She plucked a fat, bright-red strawberry fresh from the vine and held it out for him. “You’re in for one hell of a surprise, Honey. Once you taste this, you’ll want to start a garden of your own; you ain’t never gonna want to go back to that _crap_ that they sell in the grocery stores.”

That one, little berry, crisp and bright, tasted like the essence of summer itself. At that moment, Hanzo knew - it was a memory that he wanted to share with his own child, someday.


	23. Chapter 23

“So, are you a real omega or just a fat guy?” Jesse’s sister probed, as they walked through the bustling streets of the New Mexico State Fair. Though the hot, desert sun blazed down around them, shielded by Jesse’s parasol, Hanzo didn’t feel a thing. Eager to escape the blistering heat herself, his sister-in-law attempted to shove him aside to steal just an inch of his precious shade. 

“Hey – that ain’t for you!” Jesse scolded, tugging both the parasol and his mate closer to him. “And you shouldn’t be askin’ people things like that in the first place.”

“I don’t buy it. This is a trick somehow.” The girl, likely close to Hana’s age, looked up at him with a suspicious squint, as though attempting to see through a monster’s disguise. “I don’t believe for a single second that any omega would _ever_ want to be with stinky Jesse. Fess up! You’re just a fat beta wearing spray-on pheromones, aren’t you?”

“Why do you claim that nobody would ever want to be with Jesse?” Hanzo asked, eager to defend his mate, “…Has he offended you in some way?”

“Don’t encourage her, Sunshine,” his alpha grumbled, “Maria’s just a little shit who likes _talkin’_ shit. You know how it is with little siblings. She’s been pokin’ fun at me since she day she said her first word. Ain’t nothin’ you can do to change her mind.” 

“I just call it like I see it,” the girl declared with proud, obnoxious laughter, “Look at him! Don’t tell me you’re actually into this whole ‘unwashed cowboy’ thing. I mean, is that really your type? I know you’re old and have grey hair, and that you’re fat, but you deserve better than _Jesse._ ”

Admittedly, there was a time when Hanzo would have agreed; Jesse was not a man whom he had originally considered attractive. In truth, Hanzo much preferred women. He was always attracted to femininity. Regardless of how much he adored his alpha’s strength and rugged confidence, that fact hadn’t changed. Hanzo’s ideal partner was someone smaller than him - someone that _he_ could protect. Even after all those years away from Hanamura, a part of him still thought like an alpha. He didn’t want to be the princess; he wanted to be the _samurai_.

He hadn’t thought about it in so long: the family that he had envisioned for himself as a boy. He was going to present as a proud and powerful alpha. His father would purchase an omega for him some day – perhaps more than one, if they failed to please him. They would bear his children, support his endeavors, keep him warm at night – 

The bitter ache of longing crept over him, seeping through his bones. His current life with Jesse wasn’t the path that he had originally intended to walk. His child, still growing inside of him, felt heavier than ever, though if he focused, if he blocked out those creeping feelings of fear and regret, it was so easy to find comfort in the warmth of Jesse’s love for him. His consideration and his sacrifice.

Jesse was sweating from the intolerable summer heat, and yet, he never once complained. He never once lifted his parasol to shield himself instead of his mate. When they had run out of ice at the lemonade stand, he insisted that the very last glass should go to Hanzo. ...It was touching, in it’s own way.

“On the contrary,” Hanzo answered at last, “I find your brother rather charming.”

She stopped walking suddenly, pausing only to stare at him, deadpan. “Charming? _Charming_? Are you blind?”

“Perhaps you have never witnessed as much, but your brother cleans up rather nicely. He owns a three piece suit for formal occasions… though I prefer traditional Japanese styles.” He hung from Jesse’s arm, smiling up at him as he imagined the two of them in Hanamura, strolling through a sea of sakura petals. As of yet, Jesse only ever wore Japanese clothing when they sat together, alone, in their nest. He was too embarrassed to wear it outside. It was such a shame, truly. “Jesse looks so _handsome_ in a kimono.”

“Oh? You like that samurai-cowboy look, Pumpkin?” Jesse replied with a wink, “Normally, I lasso bulls, but I can catch an ornery omega, no problem. Take you home with me, doll you up in that ‘kinbaku’ thing you always love…” 

Completely mortified, Hanzo shuddered in disgust, breaking his eye contact – until he remembered that nobody in the area understood what Jesse was talking about. For now, he was safe. There was no Hana around to embarrass him with her extensive knowledge of cartoon porn, no Genji around to tease him with awkward questions.

 _‘So, Anija, out of curiosity, what is it like to get knotted?’_ his little brother would always ask, knowing full well that it would leave him mortified. 

Hanzo never answered. Even when Dr. Zielger asked about his sexual activity, he blatantly lied, claiming that after their initial mating, he and Jesse rarely touched each other at all. After all, how could he ever explain that Jesse fucked him so often, he no longer needed the plug? That it felt so good that for just a split second, the world boiled down to his alpha’s cock, jabbing up against that little cluster of nerves buried deep within him? That it left him feeling impossibly full and… strangely whole? 

Pinned beneath his alpha, Hanzo could let go of his worldly ties and simply _be_.

“I wish that you would not speak of such things in public… though you _are_ rather skilled at them,” he admitted with a hesitant smile that his alpha quickly returned.

“Hey, I live to serve. Your pleasure is my reward.” 

Surprisingly enough, their casual flirting was cut short not by the sounds of Maria’s horrified gagging, but by a _carny_ , of all people.

“You there, Sir!” the older alpha called, clearly attempting to catch Jesse’s attention, “Yes, you, in the hat! An alpha like you’s gotta be one heck of a hunter. Why don’t you test your skill? Hit a single bullseye, and you’ll take home a prize for that _lovely omega_ of yours!” 

“Jesse, _no_.” 

Even as a foreigner, Hanzo knew that all carnival games were rigged in some way, just like the casinos in Osaka. If he could successful prey on Jesse’s pride, that seemingly friendly carny would bleed them dry by sunset. With Jesse’s stubbornness, they’d be there for _hours_ , until his alpha either won or simply ran out of money. It was part of the reason why Jesse never gambled.

“C’mon, Han; don’t be a spoilsport. You deserve a nice souvenir from your first state fair. Lemme win you that ugly poop emoji doll, or… that banana thing.” Turning to the carny with a bright smile, Jesse tipped his hat, showcasing his confidence. “Alright, pardner. I’ll bite.”

“Fantastic!” The man rummaged through his stand, pulling out a cheap, toy weapon for Jesse’s use.

“Hold up... What the hell is this?” Jesse stared down at it in disbelief - a little wooden bow and a single arrow. “I thought we were talkn’ BB guns, here.” 

“Any alpha can point and pull a trigger, but it takes a _true_ display of skill to wield a weapon as finicky as a bow.”

Jesse returned the weapon with a dismissive shake of his head. 

“’Finicky’ is right. This thing is downright _primitive_ ; ain’t an alpha in the park who can hit a target with this. …Sorry, cowboy, but I changed my mind.” Without so much as another glance in the carny’s direction, Jesse handed the weapon back to him and sauntered off behind Maria. “Let’s get goin’, Pumpkin.”

Instead of following after them, however, Hanzo only stared down at that cheap, ragged little weapon, so different from Storm Bow. He could still remember the day that he found it: sitting alone in the armory, untouched and unloved, forever trapped in its display case. It was a bit of a novelty, considered impractical, in their day and age. It didn’t have the firepower of a sniper rifle, it wasn’t as quick as a simple shuriken – and it would never be as honorable as his father’s family sword. …But Hanzo had loved that old bow ever since he was a boy. Over the years, he modified it time and again, until it was finally a weapon worthy of its name. 

It had felt like an extension of his very own body. The rush of power as he called forth his dragons, the discharge of energy in every muscle, pulled taut, the convergence of heaven and earth, body and spirit. In those moments, Hanzo was _more_ than simple flesh and bone. He was an unstoppable force, a perfect weapon – 

He felt _free_.

…But how long had it been since he’d held Storm Bow? How much longer would it be until he had another chance? He was due in less than a week, now. Soon, his life would revolve around his pup.

It was only after the opportunity had passed him by that Hanzo realized that he rather _liked_ Overwatch. He enjoyed the missions, the teamwork, the strategy - even the casual camaraderie that had begun to grow between himself and the other members of the group. He felt energized with Lúcio skating beside him, he felt secure, standing behind Reinhardt’s shield. He even came to find it humorous when the others would scold him for refusing to push the payload; not that Hanzo ever listened. He had enemies to fell and vantage points to scout. 

Above all else, however, Hanzo treasured the opportunity to fight beside the man he loved. 

Slowly, at that moment, it dawned upon him that he would never know that feeling again. Soon, his child would require milk and diapers, schooling and playtime. Endless attention. Who would teach him how to walk? Who would take care of him when he was sick? Who would help him learn how to speak on his own? 

It certainly wouldn’t be Jesse; his alpha had no patience for things like that.

With the birth of that pup, Hanzo would sign away the next eighteen years of his life - perhaps more, judging by the state of the world. How were they supposed to make enough money to send their boy away to college? Jesse had high hopes that their pup would end up as a gunslinger, just like him, but Hanzo remained open to other possibilities. What if he wanted to be a lawyer? What if he liked airplanes, or nursing, or art and music? All of those paths would require money that they didn’t have, particularly if they kept spending as frivolously as they currently did.

So many responsibilities… He had to ask himself then: what if his child wanted to be an archer? What if he was more like _him_ than Jesse? The thought of it both worried and excited him: a pup that would carry on the Shimada legacy, even if he wouldn’t inherit the name. Hanzo would pass his dragons down to his son, regardless. 

There was so much to think about. Hanzo couldn’t stop staring at that bow…

“Did you want to give it a try, sweetie?” the old carny asked, noticing that Hanzo hadn’t followed his alpha. 

He could hear Jesse calling for him from the food stalls, ahead.

“No. I do not carry my allowance card on my person while travelling with my alpha. I would need to ask him for money – and he would disapprove of such a dalliance,” Hanzo replied with a dismissive shake of his head. After offering a polite, half-bow, he turned around and started following after Jesse – though what the old man said stopped him in his tracks.

“How about this? I’ll waive the fee, just this once.”

“…You would?”

“Of course I would. You’re an omega. I still know a thing or two about chivalry.”

At that moment, Hanzo realized that he actually longed for the drudgery of target practice. He missed the weight of his bow in his hands. He missed the focused monotony of drawing arrow after arrow… But more than that, Hanzo missed the thrill of combat - the pulse of adrenaline that surged through him as he scaled up mountains and leapt from the rooftops. 

Beneath the docile house omega that he had somehow become, at heart, Hanzo would always be a yakuza. If only his father and the elders had allowed it, he would have brought honor to the Shimada-gumi.

For just a split second, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d made a grave mistake. What was he doing in America, chasing after an alpha? Playing ‘happy nest’ without a single complaint? This wasn’t what he’d wanted. If, as a pup, he could have seen just what kind of man he would become, he would have slit his own throat to spare himself the humiliation. 

As if sensing his mother’s distress, his baby kicked at him – though this time, Hanzo didn’t bother to place a comforting hand over his stomach. Instead, wordlessly, he took the proffered bow and followed the man up to his little carnival stand. 

“Alright, sweetie,” the old alpha began, “I’ll let you have a practice arrow, too, just to be safe. The first step here is nocking your arrow. Don’t be afraid; I’ll help you through it.” 

Before the old man could so much as reach for him, however, Hanzo drew back the string and hit the target in its center, the arrow, slamming against the wood with an audible _crack_. Without a moment’s hesitation, he reached for the second arrow, letting it fly. It shot through the air with blinding speed, splintering his first arrow straight down the middle.

Perfect aim.

Realizing that his omega wouldn’t budge an inch despite his calls, Jesse came jogging back, dragging Maria behind him. She grumbled for a moment, upset at the fact that Hanzo had delayed her meal, though when she noticed the arrows, Maria couldn’t help but let out a long, drawn-out whistle - “Okay, now I know _for sure_ you’re a beta in disguise.”

“...If only.”

“You alright, Sweetheart?” Jesse pulled him aside, lowering his voice, “You want to sit down and rest for a minute?” 

“Why do you believe that I require your aid for _everything_?” he hissed, growing strangely agitated, unable to hide his sour mood. Jesse flinched at that accusatory tone, clearly fearing his omega’s anger. Even so, despite his discomfort, his alpha stayed with him, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder.

“I don’t mean to be fussy. It’s just that… you’re givin’ off distress pheromones.”

Snapping back to the present, Hanzo sniffed at the air – and realized that it was _true_. He could smell it: a bitter, acrid stench, catching the attention of every alpha in the vicinity. They stared at him, naturally curious as they awaited the signal to step in and play the white knight. All that Hanzo had to do was reject Jesse in some shape or form, and they would all come running. At the very least, however, that stench was growing milder, now that his alpha was with him.

“Is that so? Surely, it is due to nothing more than the stress of pregnancy,” Hanzo lied with a forced yet pleasant lilt to his voice, “I feel… perfectly fine.”

“I hope you ain’t too upset at me that I didn’t win you a prize… or that I gave up without tryin’. I, uh… I guess that ain’t too alpha of me, huh?” Jesse let out a burst of nervous laughter, averting his eyes and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Though shapeless memories of a life, long abandoned, still haunted his thoughts, at the very least, Hanzo could appreciate his alpha’s sincerity. Jesse didn’t deserve to endure his anger. This was the alpha who held his parasol for him, who massaged his feet, and purchased chocolates, and wrote him love letters for no special reason whatever - only because he loved him. 

He was lucky.

“Why would I be upset about the prize?” Hanzo asked, slightly comforted already, just by his alpha’s presence. He took Jesse’s hand and lead him to the archery booth to showcase his double bullseye. “I have already won the turd cushion on your behalf – _and_ the banana.”

___________________________________

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Maria had ditched them at some point, texting Jesse only after they’d wasted an hour searching for her. She’d met up with a group of her friends from university, apparently, and couldn’t be seen with “her embarrassing brother and the fattest beta known to mankind.” 

…Though perhaps her absence was all for the best.

As the sun began to set, with Jesse’s arm wrapped around him, Hanzo stared out the window of his little cabin on the Ferris wheel.

“No matter how many times I see the sun set over the desert, I never get tired of it. When I was with Deadlock, I’d sit there, out on the cliffs at night, and I’d wonder to myself whether it’d be the last time. Whether I’d ever live to see another mornin’.”

“Whatever led you to join Deadlock?” It had been a bit of a sore point, and Hanzo was now pushing the envelope. Despite their closeness, alpha and omega still had their secrets. Jesse never spoke about the crimes he’d committed in Deadlock, and Hanzo never revealed the worst of his abuse at Sojiro’s hand. 

They had agreed, together, that some ghosts were better off buried.

Jesse let out a curt, mocking laugh, shaking his head, “To be honest, Han, I don’t really have a reason. …Not a good one, anyway. Not one that you’d like. Truth is, there weren’t any major financial issues or anything. I didn’t have any mouths to feed. I just joined up with Deadlock ‘cause I was young, and bored, and stupid – and I was sick of bein’ trapped in the family nest, watchin’ my life go nowhere. No job, no education, no omega. I had to get out. Even if I was walkin’ straight into Hell, it was better than sittin’ in Limbo for the rest of my life. I knew that it was a mistake; I knew that the shit we were doin’ was evil. But when a man feels trapped like that, he just doesn’t really give a damn. …I just wanted a fun, exciting life, you know? I wanted my life to mean something; I wanted to _be_ somebody.”

Jesse was always so strong, so confident, that it was difficult to remember, at times, that the man wasn’t infallible. Taking the initiative, for once, Hanzo pressed a gentle kiss to his alpha’s lips. 

“You are somebody to me.”

“…Thanks, Pumpkin.” 

They sat in comfortable silence for just a moment longer, huddled up together as a pleasant coolness overtook the desert air. The city lights twinkled below them, looking a thousand miles away, as if that little ferris wheel pod existed on a plane on its own, just for the two of them.

“You know, I never thought I’d make it this far - becomin’ a mate and father,” Jesse continued, “Before I met you, I was actually startin’ to get that sinkin’ feeling again: the one where I wonder whether I’m movin’ forward or just treadin’ water.” 

“Even while you were part of Overwatch?”

“Maybe _because_ I was part of it, and I had to stand there and smile while everyone else was gettin’ what I always wanted out of life. I never told anyone about this, but… I was jealous of your brother and the relationship he had with Angie. I was jealous of Jack and Gabe, Mei and Zarya... I was tired of bein’ alone. I tried to play it cool for a while, but no man is an island. There were times when I was so lonely, I really thought about settlin’ for a beta… but you know what? I’m glad I waited. Hell, I’d wait another thousand years just to be with you and our boy again.” With uncharacteristic gentleness, as though handling something precious and fragile, Jesse stroked his hand against Hanzo’s stomach. “Only a week left to go before he joins us here in the real world.”

“…We should settle on a name.”

Normally, it would have been an easy decision, for an alpha and omega couple. Traditionally, a first-born child was named after their maternal grandfather. There was no rhyme or reason for it. It just was the way it was, and nobody had ever challenged that fact. 

“We don’t have to name him Sojiro if it brings back nasty memories,” Jesse offered, with a sympathetic smile, “I know we’re a couple of old men and all, but I figure we can stray from tradition when it comes to somethin’ like this. …You don’t want to name our son after your pa - do you, Han?”

“…No. I do not.”

“Then we won’t. It’s as simple as that.”

Though he unable to hide his flood of relief, Hanzo still felt the need to seek Jesse’s approval: “Are you disappointed?”

“’Course not. I’m named after my granddad, you know? And I still remember what it was like for Mamá, callin’ my name to come back inside after playin’ around all day. That disgusted look on her face… like she just swallowed down a whole bottle of cough syrup. It only lasted a second, but I noticed. She loved me, and she got used to the name eventually, but I ain’t under any illusions, here. It was tougher for her than it had to be. A mother and son ought to love each other, don’t you think? I don’t want to make that hard for you.”

“Then what about something with pleasant connotations?” Hanzo asked, “Pray tell, Jesse – what is _your_ father’s name?”

“My pa? Well, his name was John, but he always hated that name; it was so damn generic. He still went by it, most of the time, for business and whatnot, but at home, when it was just him and Mamá, she’d always call him by his middle name. To her, my pa was ‘Clark.’”

“Clark.” Hanzo thought it over, repeating it quietly – “That is rather difficult to pronounce.”

“Ha! Well, now you know how I feel! What did you want to name him when you first found out you were pregnant? _Munenori_?”

“Oh, I still intend to use that name, Jesse. I used ‘the search engines’ to research American customs. Your people frequently give their children middle names, do they not?”

“Yeah, but for _actual names_!”

Before Hanzo could jab him in the side, however, Jesse shielded himself with the turd cushion, laughing all the while...

It was so easy to tease each other, now. That comfortable casualness evoked a strange sense of nostalgia, bringing back memories of a simpler time. Just Hanzo and Genji, sitting on tatami mats in a little room in Shimada Castle. His brother was so charming, he could calm even a dire situation. He could almost hear Genji's voice, joking about a piece of greasy bacon or even something as menacing as “the crusty barnacle.”

It felt like another lifetime, entirely.


	24. The First and the Last

It didn’t hurt.

Paralyzed by a wave of crippling exhaustion, Hanzo gazed between his legs, watching wordlessly as the doctor sunk that little, blood-stained needle into his flesh time and again. 

Hanzo didn’t feel anything. Neither joy nor sorrow, even though he’d finished bringing his child into the world only an hour ago. Perhaps less than that. Mentally and physically, he was numb – though disappointed, perhaps. Hospitals were no place for omegas; they were places that never failed to remind him of the fact that he was somehow, intrinsically inferior to other people, no matter how relentlessly he attempted to fight against it. 

Hanzo was not his own man so much as he was a _vessel_. A host and now a source of sustenance for this pink little creature that screamed and cried in Jesse’s arms. He could still hear it: that incessant wailing. Though now, the sound was beginning to blend into the slow, steady beat of his heart monitor. 

He was so tired. He couldn’t stop himself from drifting off; his body felt so weak. He had just barely recovered from a seizure, after all, before the nurses began shouting in his ear, ordering him to keep on pushing. Dazed and confused, Hanzo had actually begun to panic, regaining his senses only when one of the doctors jabbed his tweezers against the scars of his mating mark. It was so undignified...

Though he was the one who had done all the work, though he was the one who had toiled and _bled_ through a grueling fifteen hours of labor, when he had finished, after they’d cut his umbical cord, one of the nurses had handed his pup to _Jesse_ first, as if he was more his alpha’s pup than his. Though Hanzo felt as though he could barely breathe, the rest of the medical team had deemed him unimportant enough for their attention, and they had scattered, leaving only a single doctor to help him through the afterbirth and to sew up the damage. At the very least, Jesse had permitted him to receive an epidural. After all, according to the law, Hanzo’s body wasn’t entirely his own. It was Jesse’s – and his pup’s, in a way. Clark’s life took precedence over his. If the medical team could save only one of them, mother or child, they would have carved his child out of his womb and left him to die.

He couldn’t consent to his own medical procedures; Jesse had to do it for him. He every right to _kill_ him. 

Hanzo had heard the horror stories: omegas denied caesarian sections until they died from blood loss or the complications of skyrocketing blood pressure. Omegas tearing their tendons and screaming their throats raw as they clawed at their beds, writhing from the pain and panic of a “natural birth” that they couldn’t endure.

He was lucky. At the very least, his alpha loved him… didn’t he? Hanzo turned his gaze, staring up blankly at the blinding lights of the birthing suite. 

“Would you like me to make a few extra stitches?” the alpha doctor had asked his mate, who was cooing over his pup in the corner of the room, “I can make his birth canal a little tighter, if you’d like to test it out sometime. It feels a little better, on your part. I gave my own omega one of these when he gave birth.”

As if crashing back into reality, Jesse quickly made his way over to the bed. 

“No, I uh… I don’t think Han would like that.” …Strange. Jesse looked so ragged, with swollen eyes and disheveled hair. “How’re you feelin’ Sweet Pea? You scared me for a while, there. I almost didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

They’d kicked Jesse out of the room the moment he’d started convulsing. After he’d recovered, Hanzo could still hear him, screaming and shouting from behind the door, as the security staff struggled to restrain him. From up close, Hanzo could see the bruises left behind by whatever they’d used to restrain him. In any ordinary situation, perhaps he would have felt touched by Jesse’s devotion to him. At the moment, however, Hanzo was just… tired.

Disappointed. _So disappointed_.

He looked over at the little bundle in Jesse’s arms and realized that the ugly little creature wrapped in a soft, blue blanket, was his son. It was the first real glimpse that he’d caught of the boy; it dawned on him, then, that he was expected to protect that _thing_ from now on. He was expected to sacrifice his life and his happiness for _it_. 

Hanzo didn’t respond. He only folded his hands over his strangely flat stomach and stared back up at the lights. 

“…You wanna hold him?” Jesse asked, eager to make conversation.

“No.” 

…He felt nothing. No attachment, no maternal instinct. In fact, he resented that child more than anything else, for reminding him of just how little he mattered in the eyes of those around him. _He_ was the mother. _He_ should have been the one to hold his child first. A petulant, pathetic little part of him wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. 

“In truth, Jesse… I would like a moment to myself.”

“You should go,” the doctor recommended, “Don’t take it personally, Mr. McCree. A lot of omegas get a little fussy after delivery – especially the males. Hormones and everything. But don’t you worry; he’ll get over it.”

Taking his advice, Jesse took a step back, and then another… before shaking his head and practically _dumping_ that baby into Hanzo’s arms. 

“Hold your son, Han. I know you’re tired, but he’s been cryin’ for you ever since he came into this world. There. You see?” Finally, that incessant wailing came to an end. “Little pup just wants his mamá.”

Hanzo grumbled, struggling to pull away as his alpha wiped the sweat from his brow. His lower body felt heavier than lead. He couldn’t feel his legs. Growing agitated, Hanzo attempted to scoop his child up and hand him back to Jesse – but his alpha refused to take him, only hovering over his bedside, blocking his view of the doctor and of the bloody blankets covering his body. 

Finally, with no other option, Hanzo stared down at that shriveled little baby and felt nothing. _Nothing_ … 

Until the moment that he noticed something strange about the boy. Something _familiar_ , as though they’d met before, in a lifetime long ago. As though, on a level deeper than earthly ties, they knew each other well. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He squinted slightly, taking another, closer look. His baby appeared to be no different from any other child, but there was just _something_ about him… something extraordinary that took his breath away. Something that drew them together. 

…It was that _smell_.

The strawberry in Mother’s garden. Sakura trees in Hanamura - memories of a five-year-old Genji, dancing like a fool beneath the rain of cherry blossoms. His father’s laughter rang through the courtyard.

It was the little bars of soap that his mother used to make; she’d molded one into the shape of a little blue star, just for him. It sparkled when he held it beneath the water; Hanzo used to lose himself in that swirl of glitter. 

It was the first sarsaparilla that he’d ever shared with Jesse, the smell of the dessert buffet, where they had sat when he first realized that he loved him. It was the breakfast that Jesse had fed him the night after their mating. 

His little pup smelled like _himself_ – though Hanzo knew from the bloodwork that this time, he had been reborn into another form entirely. A _better_ form. An alpha, with no glass ceilings and no limitations. Nobody to tell him that he couldn’t lead the clan, or that he was wasting his time, chasing after books and weapons. This alpha was going to be somebody. 

…He was going to become the person that Hanzo had always wanted to be – that he was always _meant_ to be. This was his second chance at life: a chance to do better. To _be_ better. 

After all, he had his mother’s intelligence, and from his father? His little pup smelled like sandalwood and tumbleweed. Raw tobacco and drying earth. Everything that was good, and honest, and wholesome in Jesse. 

It was nostalgia and fondness, bringing him home. The scent of a soulmate, a kindred spirit, so perfect that it could belong only to the one that he loved more than anything and anyone in the entire world. More than Jesse. More than Genji. …More than himself. 

This was a pup that he wanted to protect. A pup that he would die for, gladly, if it only meant that he could drown himself in that scent for just a single moment longer.

Hanzo didn’t realize that he was weeping – smiling and _weeping_ – until Jesse wiped the tears from his eyes and took a seat by the edge of his bed. 

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” his alpha asked at last.

“Yes,” Hanzo answered, forgetting each and every one of his troubles, “ _Perfect_.”

_______________________________

He grew up so quickly. 

The first two years passed by in a blur. Endless cycles of day and night, of sleeping in random places at random times and random intervals. Jesse had taken paternity leave, though in the end, he had begged Hanzo to allow him to return to work early, after a mere two weeks in the nest. He ‘needed to roam,’ he’d say, restlessly pacing through the little house in Santa Fe with bloodshot eyes and a trembling trigger finger. 

They’d returned to Gibraltar together, after that, where Jesse accepted mission after mission. Though they travelled together, Jesse only ever returned to their hotels at night, and even then, only when the mission parameters permitted it. Hanzo hid his disappointment well, however. He’d been prepared. After all, Jesse had always hated the idea of being tied-down to a single location for more than a month at a time. He’d always been that way, even before they mated; Hanzo didn’t see why a pup would change anything. 

…But during that time, Jesse had missed his child’s first steps. His first word - _Mama_ \- screeched with pure, innocent joy and boundless energy, as Hanzo’s little pup crawled towards him, stumbling on the carpeting. Still, he never surrendered, picking himself back up to rush into his arms. 

Mother and child were always together – even if _father_ and child failed to bond.

_______________________________

Clark was old enough to eat solid foods, now, though when Jesse had tried to feed him, he’d only screamed and cried, struggling in his grasp as he waved his chubby little arms, desperately reaching for Hanzo.

He quieted only when nestled in his mother’s arms, his omega, rocking him back and forth, back and forth… Smiling, Clark reached up to stroke his beard, petting his little fingers through the strands. 

“How come you’re never so good for _me_?” Jesse laughed, pinching the boy’s cheek. “You haven’t taken a single bite of your dinner; you’re just droppin’ it everywhere! Don’t you want to try some of your daddy’s tamales?”

“No.” 

…‘No’ was likely Clark’s most frequently used word, second only, perhaps, to ‘Mama.’

“And why not? They’re good for you!” Jesse asked, feigning sadness with an overly dramatic frown. Despite his absenteeism, Jesse was quite friendly with the boy, when they were together. He stepped up when he could, going so far as to take care of typically omegan chores while Hanzo looked after feedings, diaper changes, playtime, education… _everything_ regarding the care of their pup, truly. Jesse didn’t particularly like children, and Hanzo seemed happy enough, singing to him in Japanese, and drawing with him, and playing with his little stuffed animals. “Don’t you like Daddy’s tamales?”

“He prefers my sukiyaki. Do you not?” his mate replied, in that ridiculous, high-pitched voice that never failed to surprise him. Jesse could hardly believe that such a playful tone could ever come from an omega as sullen and serious as Hanzo.

“Suyaki!” his boy cheered, clapping his little hands together.

“Such refined tastes…”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and gang up on me…” Jesse teased, handing Hanzo their son’s little ‘froggy spoon’ before opening up a tamale for himself, “I see how it is.” 

“He’s a bit of a mama’s boy, isn’t he?” Lena teased, waving at the little pup – and giggling to herself when he waved back. “Oh, Hanzo, you should’ve seen what he was like when you left him with Jesse the other day! He was _screaming_ for you! It was like his world was ending! Every two seconds: _Mama_!”

“Yeah,” Jesse replied, unamused, “He was a real handful. He didn’t eat anything for lunch that day, either.”

Hanzo let out an exasperated sigh, though when Clark mimicked him, letting out a little sigh of his own, he recovered strangely quickly. Somehow, when he was with their boy, his omega was all smiles. “Whatever is the matter, Love? Are you not hungry? You should try some of your father’s tamales. They are… not as bad as they look.”

“No mollies.”

“Well, if he ain’t hungry, I can put him to bed, Sweet Pea,” Jesse offered, reaching for his pup. When he’d tried to lift him, however, Clark clung onto Hanzo’s clothing, protesting and revealing what he _really_ wanted, finally. It was so difficult to communicate with that boy, sometimes. 

“ _Milk_ , Mama.” 

The room went quiet. A pregnant male had been a difficult concept for many of the betas to grasp, but the fact that Hanzo was producing breastmilk, of all things, was another monster entirely. It took a moment, before people returned to their conversations about absolutely nothing. 

Whimpering, Clark began clawing at Hanzo’s robe, which the omega now wore over _both_ shoulders, due to the difficulty of weaning their pup. At two years old, Clark was fully capable of eating solid foods, though he always whined and cried for milk, regardless. By all means, he would have been weaned off of it ages ago, if Hanzo didn’t always give in to their child’s crying. Hanzo always fed their baby breastmilk when he thought that Jesse wasn’t watching. 

“No, Love,” his omega insisted, “You need to eat your father’s tamales.”

“…No milk?”

“No milk.”

Pathetically as ever, the boy’s lower lip began to tremble; he dug his fists into Hanzo’s robes and stared up at him with tears, pricking at the corners of his irises. 

Oh, God.

Jesse recognized that look on Hanzo’s face. Guilt, and fear, and sadness. It was the look he always gave before caving in to whatever it was that Clark wanted from him: toys, playtime, chocolate bars at the grocery store. 

“Han, don’t you go feedin’ him,” he warned, though he knew his efforts were all in vain.

“Mama… _Mama_ -” 

Hanzo looked down at his pup – and back to him. “Jesse, I… I need to be excused. Thank you for preparing supper this evening.” 

“Han, stop. You can’t keep doin’ this. _Hanzo_ -” 

He was too late. With lightning speed, his omega scrambled out of his chair with their pup in tow. As Jesse buried his face in his hands, he could hear the kitchen door, the one leading back to their nest, quickly sliding closed behind him. 

_______________________________

…It was time to move on. 

Time for his baby to grow up. Hanzo knew it to be true, and yet, with Clark smiling up at him, tired, sated, and satisfied, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Cradled in his lap, Clark reached up to grasp at his ribbon with those chubby little fingers… before sticking the fabric into his mouth, teething on it. 

It was the golden ribbon that he’d received from Genji when he was a boy. It was his favorite accessory, and yet strangely enough, Hanzo found that he didn’t mind. He only sat back in his little rocking chair – a gift from Jesse’s mother – and soothed his pup with the gentle motions. Warm sunlight trickled through the blinds, brightening the room alongside Hanzo’s scented candles: yuzu and sakura, reminding him of home. 

…Though he supposed that ‘home’ was Gibraltar, now, until Clark was old enough for elementary school. Then, the McCree family would move into Santa Fe permanently. Or at the very least, Hanzo and Clark would. A growing pup needed stability, after all. Though Jesse vowed to limit himself to single mission every month – and never one that would take him away from the nest for a period of more than seven days, Hanzo wasn’t particularly hopeful. 

Though he supposed that it didn’t matter. 

He would miss his alpha, of course, but he had plenty of support. Jesse’s mother lived only ten minutes away, and she was always eager to ask him to visit. He and Clark were welcome in her nest at any time, whether he needed a babysitter, or a free meal, or just some company, every now and again. 

…And Hanzo would always have his brother. It was almost as though Clark’s birth had signaled an end of a certain, morbid chapter of Hanzo’s life. He could truly let go, now; he could finally move on, as a mother, as a mate… and a brother. He could barely remember his father’s face or the sound of Higuchi’s voice. He’d forgotten the details of Shimada Castle: which room had held his mother’s favorite vase, the design of the scrolls and the number of shoji screens. …He’d forgotten how he could possibly have ever been so desperate as to take up arms against somebody that he loved. 

He’d grown, in a way – or at the very least, Hanzo liked to think that he had. He knew, now, that pride and honor would never be quite as important as family. He was finally ready to let go of “Shimada” to accept his life as _Sirrah McCree_ , plain and humble. An unassuming, unremarkable house omega, and mother to a boy named Clark.

Hanzo found that he could content himself with measuring up to nothing at all - so long as his pup would only smile at him and call him ‘Mama’ for the rest of his days.

Such a fragile, tiny little life, gripping onto his index finger with a cheerful little gurgle. For Clark, the world was safe. People were inherently good. There were no battles raging outside their doors, no fear of the past or dread for the future. His world boiled down to their cozy little nest and the mother who loved him more than life itself.

Pride sparked fiercely within him, reminiscent of the days when he would train with his sensei, striking down dummy after dummy. When he looked down at that tattoo and felt _proud_ to carry on the legacy of the Shimada-gumi. 

Though if Hanzo thought about it carefully, being Clark’s mother was just as satisfying. 

“Mama?” Clark asked, pawing at his chest, right over his dragon tattoo.

“What is it, Love? Are you still hungry? …Would you like some more milk?”

The little boy nodded with enthusiasm, flashing him a toothy little grin. He’d started keeping track of Clark’s tooth growth in a little journal by his bedside… just as he’d been tracking the boy’s vocabulary, and his height, and his diet –

Perhaps he was obsessed. It didn’t matter; Hanzo didn’t care what other people thought of him anymore. Not when the center of his life was _Clark_.

With a gentle chuckle, he relented, shrugging his robe off of his shoulder. 

“Remember not to tell your father,” he teased, stroking his hand through the boy’s silky hair as he nursed, “He wants you to grow up so quickly… but I think that it is perfectly alright if you would like to remain as my baby for just a little while longer.” 

“Remember not to tell me _what_?” Jesse asked, leaning against the door.

Hanzo tensed for just a split second, though he never once pulled his pup away, letting him continue to suckle at his leisure. He didn’t even bother looking up at his alpha, already anticipating that disappointed glare.

“Welcome home, Alpha,” Hanzo greeted with biting passive-aggressiveness, ice-cold and bitter, “Though you have every right to reside within this nest, I would prefer it if you would knock before entering. Clark is so easily frightened, after all. I would appreciate the opportunity to hold and comfort him before you simply… _barge into our home_.”

“You think I’m _imposing_? That’s my son, too! He’s –” Jesse grumbled, then, likely remembering his promise: no more pointless arguing. “Look, Han. I get it. You got that omega-pup bonding thing goin’ on, and you don’t want some alpha buttin’ in - even if that alpha is me. I know that feedin’ him like this makes you feel... ‘close to him,’ or whatever. But Clark can’t be cryin’ for milk when he’s three.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” Hanzo hissed, struggling to keep his voice low, so as to avoid frightening their pup, “Stop pushing him. He is not yet ready to be weaned.”

“If you keep waitin’ for him to be ‘ready,’ you’ll be feedin’ him _forever_. …I know it’s tough for an omega to let go, but you gotta do this, Han. You gotta be firm and help your boy grow up a little.”

“And what right do you have to criticize my parenting when I perform over eighty percent of what were meant to be our _shared_ duties?”

“I’m not tryin’ to criticize you…” Jesse sighed, raising his hands in a passive display of surrender, “I’m just tryin’ to say that Clark is growin’ up. He needs to stop nursin’. For fu-” The alpha shook his head, quickly correcting himself. “For… _God’s_ sake, he’s already walkin’. He can talk now. Soon enough, he’ll be beatin’ us both at target practice.”

“It hardly matters how old he grows. You do not understand the intricacies of a mother and pup relationship as well as you presume, Jesse. …We are speaking of my _baby_.”

“Exactly. …He’s your baby – and you’re his mamá. His _omegan_ mamá. I don’t think you know how much that means to an alpha. He won’t hold it against you if you stop givin’ him milk. Hell, he’s gonna love you _forever_ ; it’s just in his nature. I guarantee you that when he’s sixteen, he’s gonna hate my guts. He’s gonna think I’m a real scumbag, just like I thought about my pa, when I was that age. But he’ll always feel like he can count on _you_. He’ll never be too old to hug you. He’ll still greet you every mornin’ and buy you flowers on your birthday – even when he pretends I don’t exist. He’ll _always_ be your baby – you don’t have to treat him like one to make him love you.”

Hanzo stared down at his pup, as he continued to suckle. Though his boy had already drank enough to last him well into the evening, Hanzo knew that Clark could drown himself in milk until he made himself sick. 

…Almost three years old. Clark’s teeth were beginning to scrape against him. He was getting bigger and more difficult to cradle. Perhaps Jesse had a point, loathe as he was to admit it. …Slowly, hesitantly, Hanzo pulled his son away from his breast.

“Not done, Mama,” his pup protested, patting against his tattoo. 

“…You are. There will be no more milk, Clark.” He didn’t intend to sound as upset as he did. He couldn’t restrain the emotion in his voice. “I… should not have fed you. Mama made a mistake. …That was the last of the milk, Love. …I am so sorry.”

“No… No! Mama! _No_!” 

He couldn’t keep holding him. Looking away, Hanzo quickly handed his pup to Jesse, turning his back as his pup cried and wailed, calling out to him again and again, _begging_. 

That voice… It gutted him, carving him apart piece by piece. 

“Hey, don’t cry…” Jesse’s voice, gentle and soothing, echoed through their little nest, “It’s alright. I’ve got you. …You did the right thing.” It was only then that Hanzo realized his mate wasn’t talking to Clark - but to _him_ , stroking gently at his shoulder in a warm display of solidarity.


	25. Chapter 25

The time they spent together was an endless summer.

Even the worst memories brought with them a warmth and familiarity that Hanzo would cherish for the rest of his days. Changing his son’s bedsheets time and again, as the little boy sweated out his fever. Spoon-feeding him soup and oyaku when he was too weak to lift his little arms and in too much pain to chew solid foods. He could still imagine his pup, reaching out for a hug, for some semblance of comfort, even as he coughed and sputtered. Despite knowing better, Hanzo couldn’t refuse him; he scooped that boy into his arms and held him close. Of course, he’d caught strep throat, himself, afterwards – not that it mattered to him in the slightest, when Clark had already made it up to him a dozen times over. 

Not when he could wake up on Mother’s Day to a plate of pancakes waiting for him on the table. They were oblong and mushy, both burnt and undercooked all at the same time, and yet he ate them, regardless. The warmth of Clark’s love for him more than made up for what was likely the worst meal of his life.

And that was only the beginning. Though he’d given up combat for good, Hanzo’s schedule was as busy as ever. Clark’s school held weekly events for parents and children, considering the current social climate of delinquency and obsession with electronics. Hanzo hated the crowds and the stares, but he endured it all, for Clark’s sake. They’d gone to museums, and sports games, and arcades together. They’d played American board games and eaten greasy foods that gave him heartburn. The events were, frankly, vapid and boring, and yet ‘ _Hanzo McCree_ ’ was the first name on the signup sheet every single time. Clark appreciated his presence, after all – and at the end of the day, those events weren’t for the him but for his child. At the very least, the mother/son karate night at the local martial arts center was interesting. The instructor had singled him out for a demonstration where it was heavily implied that Hanzo was supposed to lose. 

_Unacceptable_. 

He crushed that little alpha. _He had to_. The instructor’s form was feeble and timid – and Hanzo would never shame himself by bringing such dishonor to the McCree family name. Never would he lose to such a spineless individual. He’d defeated that instructor twice – once, when the young alpha ‘showed him mercy,’ and again, until the man screamed out his surrender, helplessly pinned beneath Hanzo’s knee. Though he was a little slower and a little softer around the edges than he used to be, Hanzo was still strong enough to dazzle the other mothers and make his son the proudest boy in the school - not that he wanted the infamy; he was only attempting to defend his family’s honor. 

And family, as he knew now, was everything.

Clark had begged him to teach him hand-to-hand combat after that, along with archery, and cooking, and… everything, really. Jesse liked to joke that they were so close, that mother and son were practically joined at the hip. At the end of the day, when Hanzo would be waiting for him at the school bus stop, Clark would leap into his arms, eager to share everything that he’d learned. Though Hanzo treasured everything, from spelling tests to math exercises, he loved his son’s artwork the most. He amassed Clark’s drawings into a folder. Cats and dogs, drawn in crayon, little horses – and his favorite one of all, a colorful portrait of a smiling man, with a golden ribbon in his greying hair, tied into a ponytail. He liked to look at those drawings on the days when he felt lonely: when it rained, when Clark was away at school or spending the night at a friend’s house - and when Jesse was thousands of miles away, fighting for his life. 

Hanzo could always take comfort in his love for Clark.

In contrast, however, Jesse didn’t seem to have much of a relationship with their son at all. They spoke and laughed together, of course, though his alpha knew next to nothing about the boy. He never showed interest in Clark’s hobbies - or in Clark _in general_. Instead, at least for a while, Jesse had seemed preoccupied with waiting for the moment when pup would grow into a man. When they would finally be able to speak to each other on even ground. 

But that wouldn’t be for a _very_ long time. 

Clark was still a child, after all. Still young enough to find wonder in his little toy soldiers. He loved to use his toys as actors in his sprawling fantasy tales - though Jesse never wanted to play a role in his stories. …Or in anything. Though his mate would often play videogames with Hana, he didn’t seem to enjoy the same hobby when it included his own son. He’d explained to Hanzo, once, that not all videogames were the same, and that Clark’s selection, full of bright colors and friendly cartoon characters, just wasn’t as entertaining as warships and gunfire. 

So _Hanzo_ had played with his pup, instead. He was terrible at racing and reflex minigames, but Clark never seemed to notice. Not as though Hanzo would have won, even if he could. Even when they played games that he was familiar with – shogi and igo - he always let his child win, pushing hard at first… then throwing the match at the very last moment. He loved the way that Clark would clap his hands and laugh whenever he triumphed over his mother after a hard-fought battle – and the way his pup would encourage him. 

_‘Don’t be sad! You did really good, Mama!’_

His heart fluttered whenever he so much as though of it. 

If only Jesse could be so merciful. On the rare occasions when father and son would play together, Jesse never held back, decimating their boy within minutes. Clark would always run up to his mother in the kitchen, then, clinging onto his yukata and stomping his little feet in anger and childish frustration. Perhaps it was for that reason that he’d stopped asking to spend time with Jesse, altogether. Now, even after Jesse had wizened up and offered, their son refused.

“You sure you don’t want to go to the hardware store with me, Cowboy?” Jesse asked, as he helped his omega load up the dishwasher, “We can stop by the park later; toss the ol’ pigskin around.” 

“Nah, I promised Mama I’d help in the garden.”

“Perhaps you should go with your father,” Hanzo encouraged, gently pushing his boy towards Jesse. He didn’t like the tension that formed between the two of them. “When was the last time that the two of you did anything together?”

“Yesterday,” Clark answered.

“…When was the last time that the two of you did anything together _without me_?” If Hanzo wasn’t there, Clark never wanted to spend time with his father. It was starting to grow obvious, as of late. 

“But, Mama, I don’t want to… Besides, I already promised I’d help _you_!”

“Gardening is for _omegas_ , you know?” Jesse laughed, dejected and awkward. “You can’t keep doin’ this when you get older.”

“Yes I can,” Clark retorted, “Uncle Gengu always helps in the garden, when he visits – and Auntie Pharah grows good zucchini. Maybe if you knew how to grow something, too, you wouldn’t be so grouchy all the time, Pa. It’s too bad that everything you touch dies.”

“Everything I touch… _dies_?”

With no verbal filter, Clark was as brutal, as always. Jesse looked away, humiliated. The old alpha only snorted, tilted his hat down, and pretended that his pup’s comments didn’t bother him. 

“You should stop speaking to your father in such a manner, Pup. It is impolite,” Hanzo scolded. 

“Let him say what he wants,” Jesse scoffed, grabbing his keys and his thermos of black coffee that Hanzo prepared for him every morning, “…By the way, do you need anything, Pumpkin? I figure I can pick it up, while I’m out.”

Hanzo handed him a little grocery list, written in Clark’s sloppy handwriting; his boy always loved to play the role of Mama’s Little Helper.

“Alright. I’ll be back by supper. I love you.” He gave him a quick peck on the lips before reaching down to hug his son - who only hid behind his mother’s robes with an uncomfortable grumble.

“Clark –”

“It’s okay, Han,” Jesse stated with a sad smile, “Really. It’s… It’s fine.” 

He gave his omega another hug instead, lingering, this time, to rest his head against his shoulder and sniff at the mating mark beneath Hanzo’s leather collar, accentuated with lace from their wedding day. 

“I’ll see you later, Sweetheart.”

“Farewell, Jesse.” He kept on smiling until his mate was out of sight – only then did he turn to his pup, _scowling_. “Why do you always treat him with such cruelty, Clark? It hurts your father’s feelings when you speak like that.”

“He doesn’t have any feelings!” his child whined, loud and aggressive, as he gathered up his basket and made his way into the garden. His shrill voice echoed through their home, piercing through the walls. Hanzo’s eyes darted to the garage. The door hadn’t yet opened; the truck’s ignition wasn’t even on. …There was no way that Jesse hadn’t heard that comment. 

How had it ended up like this? 

Hanzo glanced at the refrigerator, at all of the hanging photos of the McCree family on vacation: Egypt, Hong Kong, Paris. It was clear, in each and every image, that Clark preferred his mother. Disney World, with his son as a toddler, crying in Jesse’s arms as he reached for his mother, who had been pulled aside by that ‘Gaston’ character for only a single minute. South Korea, in a barbecue restaurant, with Clark, sitting on Hanzo’s side of the booth… just like he always did.

Though Jesse never spoke of it, Hanzo knew that it bothered him to lack a true relationship with his son. He’d even gone so far as to ask if they could have another baby - though at his age, Hanzo wasn’t certain if he could survive a second pregnancy unscathed. He was still suffering through lingering complications from the first, after all. 

Not that it mattered, really, when all of his hardships had been worth it. 

…His favorite picture was stuck to the freezer with a little potato magnet from their trip to Idaho. Dressed in a traditional, white kimono, with his little lace collar, wrapped around Jesse’s hand. His alpha was lifting his opaque, white veil, kissing him like they were teenagers. From the background, he could see Clark, throwing handfuls of flower petals into the air, mesmerized by their shape and color. Reflected on his face was a special, childish joy, pure and sweet.

He remembered his wedding like it was yesterday. Genji was crying, as he pulled him into a backbreaking hug. Reinhardt and Torbjörn got so drunk that Brigitte had to fish them out of the fountain. Winston had reinstated him back into Overwatch as an honorary member, giving him a badge as proof of his service - since it was clear that he would never be going back. Lúcio took care of the music, so of course everything was fantastic. Lena and Hana danced like fools, and… all was well. It was _perfect_. 

The second-best day of his life, losing out only to the day when he had first held his newborn son in his arms. 

Hanzo drew closer, smiling at the little picture of him and Jesse, before he heard his son shouting: “Mama, are you coming?”

“Yes, Love, I will be there in only a moment.” He poured two little glasses of premade sweet tea – and a third for Genji, when he recovered from his jet lag – before joining his son in the garden. It was a perfect day, sunny and warm, with the scent of freshly cut grass wafting through the air. Hanzo shifted slightly, pulling his arm free from the sleeve of yukata, exposing his tattoo. 

“I like these strawberries more than the ones we get from the store,” Clark mumbled, biting into yet another berry. 

“You are supposed to be collecting strawberries and putting them into the basket, Pup – not _eating_ them. At this rate, there will not be enough fruit remaining for your father.”

“So what?” Clark asked, rolling his eyes, “Why should he get any? Pa didn’t help grow these! These strawberries are _ours_ , Mama. C’mon! Eat some! They’re best right when you pick them!” Brushing through the leaves for the reddest, fattest strawberry he could find, Clark pulled it off of the vine and held it out to his mother. “Here! I deserve to have the big ones ‘cause I’m still growing, but I’ll let you have one, too.”

“I am taken aback by your generosity,” Hanzo teased, laughing at his pup’s display of childish selfishness. He took the strawberry and turned it in his hand, letting the sunlight reflect off of the bright, red skin. “Perhaps one wouldn’t hurt.”

…It tasted even better than the one he’d eaten with Jesse’s mother, all those years ago. It was so good, in fact, that one strawberry led to two, which soon led to a _dozen_. Soon enough, every last plant lay barren, the basket, sad and empty. Hanzo stared down at the little pile of stems and leaves and realized that he’d left his brother and his alpha with _nothing_. “I… cannot believe that we have actually eaten all of the strawberries.” 

“Yeah, wasn’t it good?!” Clark laughed, “Ooh, wait! I just thought about something! We gotta hide the evidence!” Still smiling like a fool, Clark picked up the garden trowel and started digging a little hole into the dirt, “Throw all the leaves and stuff in here, Mama. That way, if Pa and Uncle Gengu come out here, they won’t notice. We can just say that animals ate them.”

Oh, animals ate them, alright. A selfish pig and his little piglet.

“Let’s eat the tomatoes next,” Clark chirped without a single hint of regret. 

“We should leave _something_ for your father - and what about your uncle? He traveled all the way here from Nepal. A man of honor shows hospitality towards his guests. Put some tomatoes in the basket for Uncle Genji, Pup.”

“Okay, fine… he can have… _two_.”

“Clark.”

“Okay, _three_ , but that’s it.” Methodically, the little boy searched for the greenest, hardest tomatoes on the vine before dropping them into the basket for his uncle and father. “There. They can get one each and fight over the last one.”

“And who do you think will emerge victorious?” 

“None of them! We’ll sneak the last one and split it when they aren’t looking!” 

Clark burst into laughter, bold and bright – the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

___________________________________

When Jesse returned home that evening, his mate already had dinner on the table: a series of multiple dishes, since he had all day to prepare it and nothing better to do with his time. He’d asked Hanzo, once or twice, if he wouldn’t like to join an omega’s book club or volunteer at a shelter, but his mate always insisted that he preferred to stay with Clark. To keep a clean, comfortable nest and to provide healthy meals that his boy would remember with fondness, even into adulthood. 

Hanzo was a good omega. Better than Jesse deserved. 

He couldn’t help but smile as his mate bowed to him with his usual welcome home greeting – though his son didn’t bother looking at him. Instead, the boy was pouting, his lower lip, sticking out. He was upset, most likely, about the fact that Jesse had arrived late, delaying their supper. Like a proper, traditional family, nobody ate until the alpha of the house returned home. …Nobody but Genji, anyway.

“Come say hello to your father, Pup,” his omega insisted, though Clark only looked away, grumbling. Finally, after some time – and a scathing glare from his mother – the boy relented.

“… _Hi_ ,” he grumbled, obviously angry. 

“Sorry I’m late, Cowboy. There was an accident on the highway. Ended up gettin’ stuck for a while.”

Genji let out a curt, biting little laugh, with his face stuffed full of noodles. “That’s because you Americans all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Oh, very funny,” Jesse retorted, “So, when did you finally wake up? Seems like you’ve been jetlagged your entire trip, now.”

“Maybe I’d be able to sleep better if this little dragon didn’t always try to wake me. You have so much energy; I just can’t keep up!” he joked, tousling Clark’s hair. …It hurt Jesse, in a way, to see that his son had grown so close to Genji – or as he liked to call him, ‘Uncle Gengu.’ It was a nickname that had stuck since his years as a toddler... while Clark had never been so carefree and friendly with his own father. Jesse knew that he hadn’t been the ideal parent while Clark was a baby, but he hadn’t realized that his absence would leave such a lingering impact on the boy. “You’ve raised a great kid, Anija. I didn’t say anything while you were pregnant, but I was kind of worried at first, you know? I wasn’t sure if you were going to be a ‘roaring tiger mother’ – a distant authority figure who could never be pleased! It seems very much like you!”

“Perhaps I would have been strict, like Sojiro, in another life… but I know better now,” Hanzo chuckled, taking a seat at the table. For once, Clark didn’t rush to his mother’s side, instead, lingering near Genji, who visited only once in a blue moon. “I would rather have a happy son than a perfect heir.”

A strange smile fell over Genji’s features, reflecting joy, relief, and something akin to pride, as though the man could hardly believe that his once emotionally-stunted brother could have made so much progress on his own. “Well, maybe you can have both. Clark showed me how to scale up the garden wall today, while we were playing outside. I wonder who he learned that from?”

“It is a skill that will serve him well in the future. It brings me great joy to know that the legacy of the Shimada-gumi will live on in my son.”

Clark had been picking up on _all_ of Hanzo’s skills, little by little. He spoke, read, and wrote fluent Japanese, while his Spanish was slow and fragmented. Though he wasn’t yet skilled enough to hit any targets, Clark knew how to fire a bow, whereas he didn’t seem to have any interest in Peacekeeper at all. He complained about how loud and ‘unrefined’ his pistols were. How he hated the smell of gunpowder. Instead, he preferred to practice with his mother. 

…Or perhaps he just favored his mother in general. Jesse wasn’t stupid; it was an obvious fact, and yet, it was also one that he was reluctant to face.

The second he joined his family at the table, Clark clapped his little hands together with a cheerful shout of “ _Itadakimasu_!” which was soon echoed by his mother and his dear Uncle Gengu.

That boy devoured everything in front of him, just as he always did when Hanzo prepared a “Shimada Classic.” He liked the simplicity of Hanzo’s recipes and the familiarity of traditional Japanese flavors. Though it injured his pride, Jesse supposed that it was only natural for his son to feel that way, when Hanzo had been the one to cook for him and feed him most often, during his weaning. Even as he grew older, however, his boy never became fond of the foods that Jesse enjoyed. Clark would always complain that cilantro tasted like soap, and that Jesse’s recipes were too spicy, or too smelly, or too mushy… It seemed like it was Japanese or nearly nothing at all. 

Though at the very least, he loved McDonalds, just like any other kid. It was the one place where Hanzo wouldn’t go, so if he wanted a Happy Meal, Clark was stuck with Dad for the day. 

But the last time they went, they had nothing to talk about. Jesse didn’t know any of Clark’s interests, and Clark didn’t care for any of his. He hadn’t even known, until that day, that Hanzo had enrolled their son in Cub Scouts, though he had surely signed the form at some point; perhaps he just hadn’t read over it. They were almost like strangers. The boy just sat there at the table, until he asked if he could take his food home and eat with his mother. Even if Hanzo couldn’t stomach fast food, apparently, his company was more than enough to earn his son’s attention.

…It was always like that, now. 

After their supper, Jesse went to put his son to bed, while Hanzo and Genji stayed downstairs to clean up and, judging by the animated conversation in Japanese echoing below him, to gossip about every mistake that Jesse had ever made in his entire life. 

“You’re gettin’ pretty big, aren’t you, Cowboy?” he asked, as he lugged his pup up the stairs, “Must be all that fish you’re eatin’. …Say, maybe you and me can go fishin’ one of these days. We could rent a boat, pop open a few sarsaparillas, and just… spend the day together. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Can Mama come?”

“W-Well… I was hopin’ it’d just be you and me,” Jesse laughed, opening the door to Clark’s room. Little stuffed animals stared at him from the walls and shelves. Clark had names for all of them – he’d overheard him calling them out while he played with Hanzo - though Jesse couldn’t list a single one. 

“Oh,” Clark sighed, looking more dejected than ever, “Then I don’t really want to.”

“Okay. Sure. …I guess fishing’s more of an adult thing, anyway. Maybe when you’re older, you’ll change your mind; then we can have real beer instead of _root_ beer.”

He tucked his son into bed, before flipping through his little bookshelf. Storytime was one of the few things that he and Hanzo had always alternated. It was a simple task, after all, and it hadn’t seemed as intimidating as teaching the boy to walk, or helping with his homework, or… any of the other “boring” tasks that he’d relegated to his omega – and that maybe mattered more in the long run than Jesse had presumed.

“Alright, Pup, how ‘bout we continue where we left off on _Where the Sidewalk Ends_?”

Clark looked up at him, furrowing his little brow and shaking his head. “No, Pa, I don’t want to...” 

“But you love this book!” Jesse laughed then, tossing it back onto the shelf. “Oh, I get it – it’s a little too kiddy for you now, huh? You want to hear a grown-up story? Well, I got plenty. I got stories ‘bout cowboys and Indians, ‘bout my adventures in Overwatch, scary ghost stories that my ol’ boss used to tell me… and scary stories about my boss. What do you want to hear tonight, Son?”

“Nothing. I don’t really want you to tell me a story. I want _Mama_.”

“And… why do you want your mamá?” Jesse asked, knowing that he wouldn’t like the answer. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself, motivated only by morbid curiosity. “Is it… because you want a Japanese story?”

“No. I just love Mama more than you. That’s all.”

…Oh.

Jesse’s heart sank into the pit of his chest; a wave of disappointment and dejected _misery_ overtook him - the cold, gruesome realization that perhaps he’d ruined his relationship with his son before it had even had the chance to blossom. 

He looked over at the boy’s bedside table and noticed that all of the photos were of Clark and Hanzo. _Just_ Clark and Hanzo. At the library, at the archery range, in the _grocery store_ , of all things. Mother and Pup looked so smug, holding up dozens of free samples. …Hanzo had managed to turn ordinary chores into games and opportunities to bond. After noticing that Clark wasn’t particularly fond of him, Jesse had tried to buy his son’s favor with vacations and fancy food, just as he had with Hanzo, for a time – but it didn’t seem to have the same charm. It wasn’t the same; there were no shortcuts he could take, this time. 

The simple truth of the matter was that Hanzo had put genuine effort into his parenting - and Jesse hadn’t. 

…He’d made a mistake, a _horrible_ mistake.

“Pa? You okay?” Clark asked, nudging his knee. 

“Yeah, Cowboy. I’m… I’m fine,” he lied, putting on a brave face, “I’ll go get your mamá, alright?”

“Yeah, okay! Thanks!”

With that, Jesse picked himself up and made his way down the stairs, feeling like a dead man walking. His legs were numb. 

“Jesse?” Hanzo looked up at him, confused, from behind the partially loaded dishwasher, “Have you already finished putting Clark to bed?”

“About that… I never actually got started,” Jesse admitted, hesitating before he continued, “…Clark didn’t want me to read to him.”

“Oh? Perhaps he is maturing more quickly than we presumed.”

“No, it ain’t that,” he corrected, his neutral façade shattering into a pained grimace, “He still wants a story. He just… He wants it from _you_ , Han. He doesn’t want me to read to him; he wants _you_.” 

For some reason, just saying it aloud tore him apart all over again. Even though Genji was there, listening in on every word and likely reveling in his misery, Jesse couldn’t stop his tears from falling. Luckily, Hanzo was by his side in an instant; he didn’t know what he would have done without his mate, at that moment. “H-He said that… he doesn’t love me. Not as much as he loves you.”

“I see.” A strange expression fell over his omega’s features – stoic determination. “I will speak to him, then.”

“No, don’t –” Before Hanzo could leave the kitchen, Jesse caught his arm in his grasp, squeezing tightly. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to know I told you. He doesn’t trust me as it is, and I don’t want to make it worse. It’s okay,” he continued, putting on a sad yet courageous smile, “All alphas are momma’s boys. I don’t see why he’d be an exception.”

Hanzo only nodded, before turning around and making his way up the stairs. At that moment, Jesse was thankful that Genji had the courtesy to hold his tongue. 

___________________________________

“Mama, you came!” Clark cheered from his little racecar bed, the very moment that Hanzo pushed through the creaky, wooden door, “Will you read me a bedtime story?”

“Not at the moment,” Hanzo replied, in that stern tone that always made his child slink back into his bedsheets, “Your father told me something rather interesting, when he came down to the kitchen. …Would you care to tell me about the conversation that you shared with him?”

“N-No…” Clark muttered, growing agitated, just as children always did when their parents were displeased, “Why does it matter anyway? I still love _you_ , Mama. I just don’t really love Pa as much. Is that so bad?”

“Even if it is true, you do not have to say it.”

“But he asked!”

Hanzo took a seat by his little pup’s bedside and wove his fingers through his hair. It was getting longer than he would have liked, trapped in a stage between a bob and a mullet, but Clark had insisted that he wanted a ponytail ‘just like Mama.’

“Perhaps he asked because he wishes to improve his relationship with you. He is worried about the fact that you are not as close to him as you are to me. Did you know that?”

“He’s worried?”

“He is. He never says as much, but I can read him well. He would like to make amends with you. To spend more time together, as father and son. … _Without_ me. Would you be willing to give your father a chance to befriend you?”

“No. He smells, and he’s scary when he’s mad. I don’t really want to.”

“Then would you give him a chance for _my_ sake?”

“…Why do you even care so much, Mama?” Clark asked, looking up at him with childish frustration. 

“How would you feel if your classmates began treating Allen poorly?”

“But Allen’s the best. Everyone likes him!” 

“Imagine regardless: what if it happened? How would you feel?”

“I guess I’d be… mad at the other kids. And sad for Allen.”

“Would you protect him?”

“’Course I would! He’s my best friend!”

“…Your father is _my_ best friend.” Hanzo pulled his phone – a gift from Genji, this time, complete with a GPS tracker for whenever he lost it – and opened up a photo of him and Jesse when they were younger. Just the two of them, fighting back to back, on the streets of Hollywood. Smiling, he showed the photo to his son, who stared at it, poking awkwardly at the little image of Jesse. “My partner. …My alpha. I love him dearly – and it upsets me when I see him being treated with such cruelty.”

Clark looked down at his blankets, wringing them in his little hands. He looked so guilty. “Okay… I won’t bully him anymore. So don’t be sad, Mama! I’ll… I’ll be nicer to Pa from now on.”

“Thank you, Love.” As Hanzo stood to leave, Clark reached for him, frantic.

“Wait, where are you going?!”

“I am going to fetch your father, so that _he_ may read to you this evening. …Would that be acceptable to you, Pup?”

“No! No, I… _Fine_ …” Remembering his promise, Clark quickly ceased his complaints, instead, pouting his lips and crossing his arms in thinly veiled irritation. It was better than nothing, Hanzo supposed. Progress came slowly, when it came to raising a child. 

Baby steps.

As Hanzo walked down the stairs, he could hear his brother and his alpha making small talk in the kitchen: talking about the weather, and Overwatch, and what a great dinner they just had. Though one could never call them close, at the very least, the two of them had stopped arguing over every petty slight known to mankind. 

…At the very least, Jesse no longer had to endure Genji’s relentless inquisition, interrogating him over how he was treating his mate and child.

“Jesse,” he called, putting on his comeliest smile, just for reassurance, as his alpha quickly perked up, eager to attend to whatever need his omega had, “Clark has had a change of heart; he has requested _your_ presence, after all.”


	26. Chapter 26

Though he cherished his son more than life itself, Hanzo had to admit that the boy had become somewhat more _difficult_ to love, as of late. The teenage years were an awkward time, after all. A time when boys slowly and turbulently transitioned into men who, frankly, didn’t know what to do with their lives – or their bodies. His boy had gone through multiple phases that Hanzo simply couldn’t understand: a time when Clark would wear frightening black makeup, a time when he would only speak in Japanese, and now, the latest _charming_ phase, the delinquent with a grudge against the world… and against his parents. His pup was awkward, hormonal, and angry, lashing out at everything and everyone. 

His little boy, who had once held his hand and called him Mama, was now too old for such childish affections - according to him, at least. Clark never wanted to hug him, anymore. Especially not in public. He never answered back when Hanzo said that he loved him. He didn’t want to watch movies together, or go out to eat, or do _anything_ with Hanzo, really, when mothers and motherhood were deemed painfully ‘uncool’ by teenagers everywhere. 

…It hurt him. 

Though he never mentioned it, Hanzo was lonely, sitting in his empty nest. Flipping through his old photos, watching murder mysteries, reading the same books again and again, as his pup ran around with his omegan girlfriend, Maya, and their little pack of hooligans.

It was rare to see Clark arrive home before midnight, now. Though Hanzo was always exhausted, he forced himself to stay awake, regardless, waiting, just waiting, for his pup to walk through that door – and fearing for the day when he wouldn’t. Clark had been getting into trouble recently, using his climbing and archery skills for all the wrong reasons. He never answered his calls or responded to his text messages, even when Hanzo would _beg_ the boy to give him even a single sign that all was well, and that he wasn’t behind bars or dead in the gutter. He couldn’t help but worry, when Clark meant the world to him. 

His sun and stars, heaven and earth. 

He wanted the world for his child. He wanted to watch him grow and prosper, to find himself, in that big, scary world, out there. But what could he do, when his son wanted nothing to do with him? …When Clark was running around with the wrong crowd and failing out of classes?

Hanzo stared down at Clark’s latest report card. Failing grades in calculus and chemistry, where his son had once been a perfect pupil. He still had potential - of that, he was certain. But Clark had just _stopped trying_ , as of late. Hanzo tightened his grip, crinkling the cardstock paper in his hands as he stared at the door, willing it to open. 

Two hours past midnight. He’d been sitting there for ages. 

Though Clark had long stopped showing appreciation for his efforts, Hanzo always prepared an extra meal for his son during supper, even though the boy never ate it. It had been so long, however, that the plate had surely already grown cold.

 _Ten minutes past two_.

...Unable to sit still any longer, Hanzo returned to the kitchen and popped the sukiyaki back into the oven, to warm it for his son’s return. The minutes dragged on like centuries. He’d left a series of texts, all unanswered. Hanzo had actually begun to fear the worst, when he finally heard the front door unlock, freeing him from his uncertainty - though perhaps not his misery.

…Clark returned home at three-thirty in the morning. 

“You don’t have to stay up all night waiting for me, you know, Hanzo?” the boy grumbled, booze on his breath, having the gall to sound irritated at his own mother, of all people.

Such blatant disrespect…

Clark had stopped calling him Mama after his fourteenth birthday party, when his friends had laughed and jeered at him for doing so. Apparently, no child in America older than three called their mother “Mama,” nowadays. The fact that the origin of the title was Spanish didn’t matter. It was “uncool.” …So due to nothing more than peer pressure, Clark had tossed “Mama” aside and had experimented with “Mom,” for a while, and “Okaa-san,” after that, before he finally settled on just… Hanzo. 

Hanzo and Jesse, nothing more than a pair of washed-up, uncool parents from the last, old-fashioned generation.

 _‘It’ll pass,’_ Jesse had said, in an attempt to reassure him, when Hanzo had expressed his concern, _‘It’s just a phase. Don’t tell me you never rebelled when you were that age.’_

There was the rub: _he hadn’t_. Hanzo knew too much of honor and dignity to ever bring such shame upon his family. Perhaps that was why it bothered him as much as it did. Whether he’d expressed it or not, Hanzo had high expectations for his son – expectations that he failed to meet.

“…Your report card came in the mail this morning.”

“Whatever,” Clark hissed, "Look, can we talk about it later? Or maybe _never_? I just want to be alone, okay? I’m tired.”

“ _I_ am tired!” Hanzo snapped, losing his temper for the first time in _years_ , “Every day, I wake up at five in the morning, to iron your clothing and fix your breakfast, so that you have a clean, warm uniform to wear to school and something to energize you before you depart for classes. I want you to succeed; I do _everything_ that I can to –”

“Yeah, well I never asked you to do any of that shit!” 

Hanzo flinched back at his son’s tone – it was the first time that Clark had ever cursed at him…

“…You did not have to. I take care of you, gladly, because I _love_ you – and I will do more if you require it of me. You can do better than _this_ ,” Hanzo exclaimed, holding out the little piece of wrinkled cardstock, covered in red marks and teacher comments, “Nothing better than C grades?”

“C’s are average!”

“Why would you settle for mediocrity? You have such potential, Clark; why do you waste it? Do you need me to tutor you? I was excellent at mathematics when I was a boy. I can –”

“Oh, and what the hell could you possibly know?!” Clark growled, grabbing that report card right of his hand, “You’re just a _stupid fucking omega_ , Hanzo. You didn’t even _finish_ highschool!”

…A cold silence descended through their household, carving a deep and unbridgeable rift between them. Clark looked away for a moment, burdened with that familiar, guilty expression that he always wore when he knew that he'd crossed the line. This time, however, the pup didn't waver. A flash of burning anger sparked across his eyes, before he doubled down, crueler than ever. “Just get out of my life. God.”

Just like that, the raging young man who had once been his dear, little boy, shoved past him and marched up the stairs. 

He stood still, staring at the wall as the sound of Clark’s door slamming shut reverberated throughout their household. With his thoughts drifting aimlessly, lost in the haze, thousands of miles away, Hanzo slowly walked back into the kitchen and scraped Clark’s supper into the garbage. 

It was the first time in ages that he hadn’t bid his son goodnight or set a hot cup of tea by his bedside table. Though Clark’s door, made of old, splintering wood, was only two inches thick, to Hanzo, it may as well have been three feet of solid steel. An impenetrable barricade. 

He returned to his bedroom, alone, and slept restlessly that evening, tossing and turning, until he’d kicked his nest of blankets onto the floor. He missed Jesse more than ever, at that moment. 

When the sun rose, he awoke, only to find himself clinging onto Jesse’s pillow, desperately chasing the ghosts of his alpha’s scent. Though his head ached, and his heart felt empty, Hanzo went through the usual motions: showering, getting dressed, preparing breakfast - 

“Good morning, Pup,” he greeted, monotone, as his son trudged into the kitchen. No matter how many candles Hanzo burned, he couldn’t mask the acrid scent of his distress pheromones. 

“O-Oh… morning, Hanzo. I, uh… I didn’t think you’d make breakfast today.”

“I have prepared breakfast for you every morning for the past sixteen years. Have I not?”

“Yeah, but –” Nibbling on his lower lip, his boy slinked into his chair at the table. His mouth opened and closed, as though struggling to form the words that still eluded him. “…Nothing, I guess.”

With a quiet, mumbled, ‘Itadakimasu,’ mother and pup ate together for the first time in ages, though distance and resentment had seemingly snuffed out what little warmth remained between them.

“Jesse’s supposed to be coming back today, right?” Clark asked, “What time do you think he’ll come home?”

“He will arrive at… four in the afternoon. Perhaps five.”

“I have an idea: why don’t you guys go out for a ‘date night,’ or whatever? My treat.”

“With what money?” Hanzo questioned with an exasperated grumble, squeezing his nosebridge. His son didn’t have a job. He’d whined and protested when Jesse had badgered him into applying at the local convenience stores. Clark had sabotaged his interviews, and the rest was history. “…I wish that you would stop gambling.”

Oh, that shut him up quickly.

Clark stared down into his miso soup, stirring little spirals into the bowl, as though he could find the answers to all of life’s questions in the patterns of tofu and kombu. 

“Do you intend to go out tonight?” Hanzo asked, throwing down his chopsticks – and refusing to take part in the ridiculous mockery of normalcy that Clark seemed intent on perpetuating.

“Y-Yeah, I need to talk to Maya. It’s… important.” Clark shrunk down in his seat, subconsciously attempting to slink beneath the table, “Believe me; it’s serious. I need to do this.”

“You do not have to explain yourself to me,” Hanzo sighed, “You will do whatever you wish. I am ‘only an omega.’ I do not have the authority to stop you.” ...At that moment, Hanzo realized that he didn’t have much of an appetite at all. He stood, suddenly, to start cleaning up his bowls and plates. 

“Mama, I’m –” 

His heart thundered. He’d been waiting to hear that word for so long, now. 

…For so long. 

Hanzo set down his dishes and shifted his attention, entirely, to his son, only to be met with awkward, nervous silence. They watched each other for a moment, so close to bridging the gap… and then fell short. Clark turned away at the very last second, blushing beet red. 

“I gotta go,” he stuttered, gathering up his backpack and his bento box, “I’ll be late for school.” 

“Very well.”

It was the first time since his son had started elementary school that Hanzo hadn’t hugged him goodbye – or tried to. Instead, he sat back down at the kitchen table, burying his face in his hands, willing himself to take slow, steady breaths. Clark lingered in the house for a moment, he hesitated before closing the door, and yet, even when Hanzo was sure the boy was glancing back at him, he didn’t bother to look up and meet his eyes.

When Jesse finally returned home, Hanzo couldn’t have rushed into his arms any faster, desperately craving the intimacy that he’d longed for during the alpha’s absence – and during the time that he was left alone with the teenaged Clark. He’d grown so familiar with life amongst an adoring mate and a cheerful young pup that Hanzo couldn’t imagine how he’d ever gotten by without one or the other. 

Those early years were so addictively good; he didn’t want his little fever dream to ever end. Though all good things came to a close, eventually, Hanzo rationalized. 

After all, he couldn’t exactly stop his pup from growing up or from becoming his own man, for better or worse. 

And so for once… he hadn’t bothered to call. There would be no supper on the table, waiting for a son who wouldn’t eat it. No pajamas laid out on his bed. Whether Clark stayed out all night or returned to the nest, Hanzo wouldn’t even know. 

Though he refused to use Clark’s money, he’d convinced Jesse to take him out on a romantic evening regardless: dinner and a show, and a hotel after that, so he would be able to sleep in, for once in his life. He felt refreshed, admittedly, after a night where he didn’t have to cook, or wash dishes, or nag his child. Jesse took care of him, just like he used to, back in their courtship days. Despite everything, despite his sorrow and his uncertainty, Hanzo didn’t inform Jesse about his argument with Clark.

As poor as their mother/son relationship had become, after all, Jesse’s was even worse. They couldn’t last through a single conversation without raising their voices and growling at each other. Baring their teeth like typical alphas. 

At the very least, Hanzo had wanted to spare himself the tiresome chore of dealing with the fallout: of listening to both men complain about the other. …So he had said nothing, and Jesse was as pleasant as ever.

After a nice brunch together, he and his mate returned home, pushing through the door… only to be greeted by the sight of their son, sprawled out over the sofa and eating ice cream for breakfast. His hair was disheveled; the boy was still dressed in his pajamas, of all things. 

“ _Clark_?” Jesse exclaimed, stepping forward and turning off the television, “The hell’re you still doin’ in this nest? It’s Friday! Why aren’t you at school?”

“I’m sick,” their boy replied, his voice, weak and trembling. 

Instinctively, forgetting all of his hurt and his bitterness, Hanzo approached him, pressing his hand against Clark’s forehead.

“Like hell you’re sick. You look fine! Quit bein’ lazy and get ready for school. I’m givin’ you fifteen minutes before I expect to see you sittin' in the truck.” Grumbling, Jesse brushed Hanzo aside to lecture their son further, his voice, growing louder by the second. “Missin’ the bus, makin’ me drive you around - what do I look like?! Your chauffeur?”

“Give me a fucking break! I said, _I don’t feel good_! Okay?!”

“The hell did you say?!” Jesse shouted, his face turning red with unrestrained fury, “Don’t you cuss around your mamá!”

With every second that he sat there, enduring Jesse’s verbal assault, loud enough to shake the windows, the pup curled up little by little, weakly attempting to shield himself from his father’s anger.

“Let him stay home, Jesse,” Hanzo sighed, resting his hand on his alpha’s shoulder, “And stop shouting; you are frightening him.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Lettin’ him stay home is only gonna promote this kind of laziness! He’s goin’ to school, and that’s final.” He jabbed his pup in the chest, glaring down at him like he was scum. “…You got fifteen minutes. Brush your teeth and get dressed.”

“…Fine.” Utterly defeated, with his tail between his legs, Clark returned to his bedroom, slamming the door shut with a resounding boom.

“Don’t feel bad for him, Han. He was fakin’ it,” Jesse explained, grabbing Clark’s ice cream and tossing it into the trash, “Playin’ us for a pair of idiots. …I’m sick of that kid. I took a look at his report card earlier; if he doesn’t start showin’ some improvement, I say we send him to military school until he graduates. That’ll teach him a thing or two.”

“Military school?”

“He won’t be fightin’ in wars or anything. Don’t worry,” his alpha clarified, “But they’ll be treatin’ him like he’s a cadet. I think that’d do him some good. Get his ass out of bed early, give him some discipline… make him miss his mamá’s cookin’.” Jesse let out a curt little laugh, before grabbing his car keys and his hat, getting ready to restart his truck, still parked outside. “Yeah… it’s startin’ to sound like a real good idea.”

“Allow me to speak to him first, Jesse,” Hanzo insisted, “I am certain that this… ‘military school’ will not be necessary. I can still reason with him.”

…Or at the very least, Hanzo hoped that he could. With five minutes remaining on Jesse’s fifteen minute deadline, Hanzo knocked on his son’s door, calling his name. In truth, he hadn’t truly expected a response. The seconds ticked by in silence; he was just about to turn away when the door finally squeaked open, revealing his son, haphazardly dressed in his wrinkled Catholic school uniform. 

Hanzo had a lecture prepared – and a heartfelt plea, if even that had failed. And yet, when he finally looked over the boy, all of his careful planning went out the window.

Clark’s little eyelashes were soaked with tears; he couldn’t stop sniffling. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if he were uncertain whether to invite Hanzo inside or to push him away. 

“Whatever is the matter, Love?” Hanzo prompted, taking the initiative and leading his boy to his bed, where mother and son soon sat in silence, side by side. Clark wrung his blankets between his fingers, squeezing so tightly that the color drained from his knuckles. Hanzo put on a fake smile, just for Clark’s sake. “I… know that we are no longer as close as we used to be. I know that you have other, more trusted confidants - but I will always be your mother. I am always here to listen, if you would wish it of me. You can tell me anything.”

“And you won’t tell Jesse?” Clark asked, though before Hanzo could so much as answer, his boy’s resolve came crumbling down. Clinging to him, digging his fingers into his yukata, Clark wept against his mother’s shoulder, his entire body, heaving with the force of his sobs. As Hanzo held him there, embracing him securely like his pup was only six years old, the strangest thought flittered through his mind – that he was the only thing holding Clark afloat at that very moment. 

“I-It’s Maya…” Clark explained at last, barely coherent, “She broke up with me.”

“…I am sorry to hear that, Pup.”

“No, you don’t get it. That’s not it –” Clark continued, growing more and more frantic by the second, “That was two days ago… but yesterday – only _yesterday_ – I saw her holding hands with another guy in the hallway. But you know what? You know _what_? I-I would’ve been fine with that. I would’ve been pissed, yeah, but it wouldn’t be so bad if that guy wasn’t _Allen_! I mean, _for fuck’s sake_ , anyone but him! That fucking… opportunistic _son of a bitch_! He was supposed to be my fucking friend, and now everyone’s all telling me to get over it, like I’m supposed to suck it up and put on a fake-ass smile, so that we can all keep hanging out and whatever, since I’m the only one with a license, a-and we all have the same friends, and… and… well _fuck that_! Fuck it! I hate them! I _fucking_ hate _all of them_! They can all just go to hell!” 

Clark pounded at his shoulder and his chest until they ached, surely leaving bruises, and yet Hanzo held him regardless, never once loosening his grip. He just waited for his son to let out his emotions, stroking his back as Clark shouted his throat raw, screaming and cursing until his voice turned hoarse, until he was so exhausted that all he could do was gasp for breath, trembling in his grasp.

“What am I going to do, Mama?” His pup asked, with such innocent vulnerability that it made his heart ache. 

_Mama_ … 

“I c-can’t go to school… I can’t! I don’t even want to look at them!”

“What about… if you and I stay home for the day? We can use that time to consider your plan moving forward.” Reaching beneath the boy’s bed, Hanzo pulled out the old baby blanket that he stored there, knowing that Clark was too embarrassed to keep such a sentimental token of childhood in plain sight. Hanzo wrapped that blanket around Clark’s shoulders and let his little boy lean against him. …He was so heavy. “And what if I tell your father that you have a migraine? Perhaps I could convince him to purchase some medicine – and some more ice cream - just for the two of us?”

“Yeah… Yeah, that… sounds good,” Clark sniffled, eagerly reaching for the box of tissues that Hanzo held out for him. As he stood, however, Hanzo felt his son’s grip onto his arm, trembling and weak. “Oh, and Mama? …Thanks.”

“Of course, Love. I will always be here to support you.”

_________________________

The next day, Hanzo awoke at five in the morning, just as he always did, to prepare one of his “special weekend brunches” that Jesse always loved so much. Pancakes, eggs prepared in three different ways, bacon, sausages, steaks – 

Being a mate and a mother was a thankless job. He felt so insignificant, at times, especially now that Clark rarely joined him for meals. More often than not, the boy would just grab a quick cup of coffee before rushing out the door to meet his friends for their early morning hooliganism. Loitering in the alleyways outside of their school on the weekdays, intimidating freshmen. As for weekends, Clark slept in until the late afternoon and rarely even greeted his parents – only ever asking to borrow the truck. 

…It was why Hanzo was so surprised to catch the scent of pancakes, of all things, wafting up from the kitchen, as he walked down the stairs that morning. 

Was there some special occasion that he had forgotten? No matter how aggressive and awkward his son had become, after all, Clark always treated him well during the holidays. Mother’s Day, Omega’s Day, and Hanzo’s birthday were the three days of the year when his boy seemingly regressed back to normal – back to that sweet, affectionate little pup that he adored with all his heart.

“Clark?” he called, turning the corner – only to see his boy with a bright smile on his face. He looked so innocent, dressed in his cotton yukata instead of that ridiculous leather jacket that made him look like a gangster. Even with that horrible “skunk stripe” dyed into his hair, his pup looked… younger, somehow. 

He looked _happy_ , despite everything that had occurred between him and his girlfriend over the past three days. Clark had agreed to cut his friends out of his life – since no true friend would ever treat him so poorly. He deserved better; Hanzo had convinced him of that. 

“Good morning, Mama,” Clark greeted, flipping a pancake into the air – and catching it, just like a pro. “Take a seat! Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Hanzo glanced at the table, then, and noticed a mimicry of all the dishes that he usually made. They weren’t quite as good – the omelets looked a little dry, and the steaks were burnt, but it was the effort and the sentiment that mattered. 

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a fool.

“It is only five-thirty. You must be exhausted.” 

“Don’t worry about it; I _wanted_ to do this,” Clark insisted, “Besides, _you’re_ up making breakfast at five-thirty every day.”

“…Is there a holiday that I have forgotten?” Hanzo finally asked, skipping to the heart of the matter, “Should I wake your father?”

“No!” Clark exclaimed, before shaking his head and forcing himself to relax, “I mean… this… this ain’t really for him, you know? I, uh…” 

His pup cleared his throat. Stalling, Clark awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to another, swaying gently, as though pushed by the gentle spring breeze flowing in through the window. “What I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry for cursing at you, and… for calling you stupid. I know this isn’t an excuse, but… that was the night that Maya and me broke up. She waited until I dropped her back off at home to break the news. I was just… I was _so mad_ at her - and I took it out on you and… omegas in general. But I know that was wrong – talking crap about an entire sex just because I was mad at Maya. Well, omegas aren’t stupid; _I_ was. …And I’m sorry, Mama. Sorry for making things so hard for you, and for always being rude, and talking back, and calling you by your first name. I just wanted to be cool, you know? I just… I wanted everyone to like me, and I wanted to be like Allen. But you know what? I don’t care, anymore. I don’t care if it’s uncool: _I love you, Mama_. I’m sorry – do you forgive me?” 

As Clark pulled him into his grasp, as a wave of that familiar, perfect scent washed over him, Hanzo’s eyes fluttered closed. A wave of calm and contentment overtook him. _Pure validation_. His efforts, his struggles, hadn’t been for nothing. 

“Of course I do, Love. …You could rob a bank, and I would forgive you,” he chuckled, lightening the mood, as his son laughed back. Flawed as his mindset was, Hanzo couldn’t deny it. To him, his boy would always be perfect. “Does this mean that you will stop addressing your father by his first name, as well?”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not push it,” Clark teased, drowning Hanzo’s pancake in butter and syrup, just the way he liked it, “I’m okay with being a little uncool for _you_ – not for _Jesse_.”

As mother and pup sat down to breakfast, with their usual call of ‘ _Itadakimasu_ ,’ Hanzo noticed his son staring at him from across the table, practically radiating boundless energy. 

“Well? How’re the pancakes?” Clark asked, “And be honest, this time! I really do want to get better.”

“Very well," Hanzo stated, before sampling his child's dish, "You have over-mixed the batter, causing the pancake to become chewy instead of fluffy. I assume that you poured oil directly into the pan instead of brushing an even layer. Some portions are hard and overcooked, for that very reason.”

“O-Oh…” Clark muttered, disappointed. Hanzo regretted his honesty for a moment, until the pup simply nodded, with renewed resolve. “Well, I’ll do better tomorrow, you’ll see!”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I figured that since I, uh… basically lost my friends and don’t have anywhere to go, I might as well make myself useful. And you said something the other day that kind of made me think: you’ve been taking care of me for sixteen years, but I haven’t really done much for you, have I?”

“You are only a boy,” Hanzo insisted, “And you are my son. I do not expect anything in return for the sacrifices that I make for you.”

“Well, you should start. God knows you deserve some nice things coming your way once in a while. …I’ll be eighteen in two years, you know. I can be reliable, too. I-I mean… I know I haven’t really shown it recently, or given you any reason to believe me, but you can lean on me, too. Or you’ll be able to, soon. Until then, I hope you don’t mind if you can teach this… _stupid alpha_ a couple of your Iron Chef tricks – and maybe you can help me with classes, after all. I’d… really like to start doing better.”

Holding back tears, Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut, clamping his hand over his mouth to muffle his pathetic little whines. “I have been waiting so many years for you say that, Pup.”

“Yeah,” Clark replied, his voice, soft and loving, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the sheer length of what was originally meant to be the final chapter of this story, I have decided to split it into two portions – a longer passage about Clark’s teenage years and a slightly shorter closing epilogue that will be published sometime within the next few days. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for all of your comments! I truly appreciate them; they are truly a pleasure to read!


	27. Chapter 27

He wondered what his father would have thought of him, then: mated not to an honorable lord, but to a rogue and a wanderer. A man with neither peerless menagerie nor towering castle, but with a rusted truck and a ranch in the desert. A simple man with simple pleasures, who snorted when he laughed and clung to him while they slept. 

A man with nothing to offer but his love and his loyalty. 

Would Sojiro have been disappointed in his lack of honor? Would he have been angry that Hanzo had tainted their bloodline by birthing a child that wasn’t even Japanese? …Or would he have been relieved that his troubled son had finally found some semblance of happiness, after all the years that it had eluded him?

…Hanzo stared into his father’s shrine, separated by a thick wall of glass, and wondered. 

With the last remaining members of the Shimada-gumi scattered to the four winds, their castle had fallen into the ownership of the Japanese government, who had converted it into a cultural site, in an effort to reclaim some of the money that the clan had cost legitimate businesses and innocent families. All of their artifacts were perfectly preserved: a history of the Shimada family, lain bare for all who cared to look at it. 

It was a strange feeling, setting foot in his old home, not as an intruder or a fugitive, but as a free man: a mate and mother, a simple tourist… an _American_ , now, according to his passport. _Sirrah Hanzo McCree_. Sex: M/O. Mate and ward of an alpha named Jesse.

He couldn’t believe that the American government had issued him a passport at all, considering his history. 

Times had certainly changed. 

A recent, major push for omega’s rights had led to a wave of reform through governments across the globe. All of them, sparked by a simple, unassuming girl who had refused to quit her job at a bank after her late presentation – and who had been lynched for her refusal to submit. Because of her, in all but the most conservative nations, omegas were now permitted to work in all occupations, so long as they didn’t require a college degree. They were now permitted to drive and to handle money in small transactions. 

And that wasn’t all; it was even _safer_ to be an omega, now.

Striking an omegan partner was now seen as abuse instead of discipline. Mating with an omega younger than eighteen years of age was rape. …And, perhaps most relevant to Hanzo, omegas under duress could no longer be charged with mariticide – and omegas previously charged were pardoned, including Hanzo, himself, who could now walk as a free man in the city where he was born and raised.

In another life, he would have been ecstatic. Currently, however… in truth, Hanzo didn’t know what to make of his new freedoms, when he didn’t truly _need_ any of them.

During a practice drive, spurred on by nothing more than curiosity, he had crashed Jesse’s truck through the garage door and had never felt the need to sit behind the wheel, ever since. It wasn’t any trouble; Hanzo had nowhere that he wanted to go, after all. Nowhere that Jesse or Clark couldn’t lead him, anyways. In a way, he almost preferred relying on the alphas in his life. He liked to leap on the back of his son’s motorcycle and speed down the highway, weaving through the lanes. He liked to sit in the passenger seat of Jesse’s truck, as his alpha would sing to him from the same CD that he always played - smooth, melodic, and comfortingly familiar.

He didn’t need to use money, when Jesse refilled his allowance card every Thursday. 

He didn’t need to work, when both alpha and omega received a pension from Winston. He didn’t feel any particular drive to earn his GED. He was too old for that, now; Hanzo didn’t want to spend his twilight years taking exams, when Jesse made it so easy to enjoy a fun and comfortable retirement together. He and his mate were perfectly content to float down lazy lagoons on their inner tubes, sipping drinks out of coconuts. Even on a budget, every day was a vacation. They liked to sit around the bonfire, roast marshmallows, and wax nostalgic. Though they were both old and grey, alpha and omega would play together like a pair of pups, at times: sitting on the swing set in their backyard, smacking each other with pillows, throwing flour at each other as they cooked together.

…And sex was always free.

Life was _good_. Now that Jesse was retired, they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company. Hanzo liked to think of it as his ultimate reward, for enduring all those decades of hardship. 

His alpha had even managed to fulfill the old promise that he’d made, to finally take him home to Hanamura – to his family crypt, beneath the castle. Hanzo tilted his head slightly, staring into his father’s eyes, looking back at him lifelessly from his photograph. 

“ _So that’s Ojii-san, huh_?” Clark spoke up suddenly from behind him, startling him half to death. Hanzo pressed his hand over his heart and scowled, shooting a miserable glare towards the young man, hovering over his shoulder. Clark, a full-fledged alpha, now, raised his hand in a silent apology – a gesture that he’d picked up from his father, whether he knew it or not. “Sorry, Mama. I wasn’t trying to give you a heart attack or anything. …Did you take your blood pressure meds this morning?”

“You are lucky that I did, otherwise, you would be placing my urn right here, next to my father’s.”

“Sorry, sorry… sorry,” Clark chuckled, before placing his hand on Sojiro’s glass barrier. “Speaking of Ojii-san, though, what was he like? You and Uncle Genji never really talk about him. You know, besides the fact that he tried to set you up with some ‘crusty barnacle guy’ before you met Otou-sama.”

Otou-sama…

What a backhanded insult – and towards _Jesse_ of all people. It was a formal and proper term, yes, but in their day and age, it was now considered archaic, bringing with it the image of old, crusty alpha fathers, with deep scowls and liver spots. It was cold. Unaffectionate. A stark contrast from the warmth and love with which Clark treated his mother.

“Your grandfather and I were never close,” Hanzo replied, still staring at his father’s photograph, sitting in its shrine, “He had always favored your uncle. In contrast, as his heir, I was held to… higher standards. Your grandfather never hesitated to inform me when I fell short of them. He was a stern man and a fierce disciplinarian: distant and authoritative.” 

“Even after you presented?”

“Particularly then. He attempted to be more ‘gentle’ with me, in a way - more patient. But he was a traditional father to the very end. Under the circumstances, he followed what he believed to be the correct course of action: he revoked my title, struck my name from the family records, and began training me as a house omega. I was so angry that I never spoke to him again regarding anything more significant than my training. I did not want him to know me. I was so bitter that I refused to reconnect with him, even on his deathbed.”

“Damn, that’s cold!” Clark teased, with an edge of _satisfaction_ in his voice, as though the young man approved of his mother’s actions – until he realized that his comment could have been perceived as inappropriate. He coughed into his fist, then, taking on a more serious tone. “Well… You don’t regret it, do you?”

“Perhaps I _do_ , in a way.” Hanzo confessed, with dignified maturity. Though he could still feel the remnants of his bitterness, he knew, now, that it was better to simply let it go. He was older and wiser, after all; there was little point in clinging onto grudges that would only ever fester into poison and deprive him of his peace. “He was not always unkind. Shortly after I presented, I had been hospitalized due to a series of… rather severe complications. Despite the tension and the ill will between us, my father never once left my bedside. He prayed over my body and fluffed my pillows. And he would ask, every hour or so, if I was in pain, or if I wanted to listen to music on his tablet… or if I wanted a _hug_.” 

Hanzo actually laughed, then, just picturing it – the image of his no-nonsense father, awkwardly asking if he could embrace him. 

Though it had hardly seemed like a laughing matter, at the time. Hanzo had been so angry at his father for treating him differently after his presentation – and he had even been angry at _Genji_ for calling an ambulance when he’d found him mere minutes after he’d poisoned himself. With his throat and lungs burned from caustic detergents, Hanzo’s only method of communication was through writing. All that he would do, knowing that it _tortured_ his father to read it, was demand for him to unplug his ventilator - and to berate him for allowing the doctors to resuscitate him against his will. He wrote it again and again, in rushed, sloppy kanji. Sojiro received the same answers every time, and yet every hour on the hour, they would share the same, tired exchange.

_‘Are you in pain, my son? Would you like for me to request more morphine on your behalf?’_

He would shake his head – no.

_‘That is good to hear. Most good. …If you are feeling well, then perhaps you would care for a little entertainment: would you like to listen to something? You enjoy classical music, do you not? Perhaps a Mozart symphony would bring you peace.’_

Another shake of his head.

_‘I see. Perhaps it is better for you to rest, after all. Allow me to tuck you into your blankets, Hanzo. …Now, would you like for me to hug you goodnight?’_

“He loved me, in his own way,” Hanzo continued, “But I had been determined to deny that fact, for most of my life. It was easier to believe that life was black and white; that the man who had attempted to sell me away had never cared for me in the slightest. At the very least, then, I could feel righteous in my hatred for him. But life – and people – are not nearly as simple as that. My father had his reasons - and his regrets. All that I did was ensure that he would carry them to the grave.”

“Well, I think he deserved it; he sounds like a real piece of work,” Clark shrugged, tapping on the glass, “Traditional alphas usually are.”

“ _Your father_ is a traditional alpha,” Hanzo chimed in, eager to remind his son to treat Jesse well during their vacation together. The last thing that he wanted was to be trapped in a hotel room with two alphas whose relationship was distant, at best, and openly hostile, at worst. It was no secret, after all, that Clark thought of his father as a stubborn, sexist buffoon - and that Jesse, in turn, thought of his son as a radical maverick and an ingrate. 

“Exactly,” Clark agreed, making ridiculous finger guns, “He’s a piece of work. Where is Otou-sama, anyway? He’s been in the bathroom forever.” 

Jesse mentioned earlier that he felt unwell – a _wonder_ , truly, considering the fact that he’d devoured fifty pieces of nigiri that afternoon. Hanzo had told him to stop eating, but that man just wouldn’t listen sometimes. Especially when it came to food. 

“I hope that everything is alright...” 

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Clark easily dismissed, brushing all thoughts of his father aside, “He probably just got lost somewhere. You know how he is. … _Or maybe he pooped his pants_. Who knows. It’s nothing to get worried over, though, Mama.”

“Your father did not… defecate inside of his trousers,” Hanzo insisted with an embarrassed sigh, “He is not as hapless as you seem to presume, Pup.”

“Are we talking about the same man? ‘Hapless’ is his default state of being. This is the guy who turned the oven to broil instead of off and almost burned down the house when you went away on vacation with Uncle Genji.”

“That was a singular mistake, and your father always double checks the settings after using the oven, now.”

“Remember when he tried to use a power washer on the deck, only he didn’t check the water pressure, and everything splintered? And how you and I had to sand it down and put on the varnish because he kept procrastinating?” 

“That was…”

“He put it off for six months, Mama. He had all summer, and he didn’t do it. I don’t care how many ‘missions’ he used to go on. Just because you were a house omega doesn’t mean that you didn’t work just as hard as he did. It wasn’t fair for him to push the deck repairs onto you – you know, like he does with _everything else_.”

“You, uh… talkin’ ‘bout me, Cowboy?” Jesse chuckled awkwardly, as he gently pushed his way through the crowd. Clark only groaned in growing irritation as his father drew near – though Hanzo couldn’t help but smile and stare.

_Oh, he looked so handsome._

Though his hair was more grey than brown, now, Jesse wore it shamelessly, foregoing his Stetson, for once in his life, deciding that his hat would clash with the dark yukata and matching haori that Hanzo had picked out for him from a local tailor. The “samurai-cowboy look” suited him perfectly. Unable to resist, he eagerly reached for his alpha’s arm, clinging to him. Though Hanzo could no longer be called a “trophy omega,” tired and old as he was, his alpha still stood tall, showing off his mate with pride. 

Jesse flexed a little, teasing. “Want to make like a couple of teenagers and sneak behind the bushes, Sweet Pea?” 

“Okay, _gross_ ,” Clark exclaimed, quickly distancing himself from his parents, as though they’d caught the plague. When his exposed, freshly-tattooed arm brushed against a stranger’s backpack, however, the boy visibly grimaced, huddling into himself. 

Hanzo was by his side in under a second, doting over the boy, as he always did. “Are you still in pain, Love?” 

“Yeah, a little. I’ll be fine, though,” Clark insisted, “It’s really not that bad. It doesn’t hurt, as much as it feels like… that tingling feeling you get, when you smack your elbow against a table. …Still, I feel stronger, somehow. As crazy as that sounds. Like I can feel the dragons’ energy under my skin… if that makes sense.”

Hanzo traced his fingertips over his son’s tattoo, which housed the slumbering spirits now residing within him. Despite the joy that he’d felt watching his son take up his mantle, Hanzo couldn’t ignore the _emptiness_ that had descended upon him, now that he had given up his dragons. 

Hanzo’s own tattoo had lost its color, turning a dull and lifeless grey, just like Sojiro’s had been, all those years ago. Cut off from the spirit world, he was lost and afraid, somehow – like a bird that had forgotten how to fly. 

A fish, drowning in water. 

…He felt alone.

Those dragons had saved him time and again: from Higuchi, from his enemies - from the shadow of his own loneliness. They had kept him company during the years he’d spent as a fugitive, fleeing from the Shimada-gumi. With ferocious loyalty, they had served as his companions and his guardians, overseeing his progress as a pup, as a fledgling omega, and finally, as a mature adult. 

And now they would watch over Clark.

“Your dragons possess great strength and will impart it upon _you_ in turn, my son,” he explained, “Use their power wisely.”

Clark looked down at his arm, for a moment - at the brilliant sheen of azure and gold, at the spiraling patterns of scales and thunderclouds. Though he’d clearly been excited, at first, now, his boy looked more anxious, than anything else.

“…These dragons are your friends, aren’t they, Mama?” he asked at last, quiet and pensive.

 _His friends_? 

Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder. Magic was not a toy; remembering its dangers, he only ever summoned his dragons during combat. Even so, though they had no physical bodies to call their own, they still managed to bring their host comfort in the darkest of days. He could still recall all of the nights when he’d been so afraid, huddled up alone beneath a bridge, or in an empty warehouse in the middle of winter. But when Hanzo would only place his hand over his tattoo, he could feel the strength and the crackle of energy radiating up from the ink, and he could accept the fact that he, too, was still alive. 

Whether he liked it or not.

They kept him going. They gave him strength.

“I had never truly thought of them as friends, but perhaps, in a way… they are.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Clark replied, shooting him a sad smile, “It must’ve been hard to give them up. …It isn’t too late to change your mind, you know. I can give them back if you want.”

“No,” Hanzo insisted, though he was touched by his son’s selflessness all the same, “This is a sacrifice that I make gladly. You will need to take advantage of every tool at your disposal if you insist on following in your father’s footsteps. Serving as an agent in Overwatch will not be a simple task, my son. You will face grave danger and find yourself standing on the brink of death, time and time again. I no longer have the strength to follow you onto the battlefield, but with what little power I have left… I want to protect you.” 

Putting on a brave smile – and hiding the fact that what he truly wanted was for his son to find a boring job close to home instead of fighting for his life, Hanzo placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“May my bow and my dragons serve you well, and may they keep you safe through the trials ahead.”

His little pup, now not so little, threw his arms around him in a crushing embrace. “Thanks, Mama - for everything.”

“…Hey, where’s my thank you?” Jesse joked, joining in and throwing his arm over Clark’s shoulder, only for the younger alpha to quickly pull away, grumbling, “Now, who taught you how to combat roll? And how to get water out of a cactus?”

“ _Thanks, Otou-sama_ ,” Clark mumbled, deadpan, before quickly trailing out to view the next exhibit.

The outdoor training grounds hadn’t changed in the slightest: not a single stone out of place. Hanzo could almost imagine himself and Genji, standing side by side, shooting arrows at the endless line of targets. Drawn to anything that had to do with archery, Clark made his way to the little stand of rentable training equipment, to be used by curious tourists. Hanzo was just about to follow when Jesse called for him, some distance away, inside of the castle proper.

“Hey, Han! You should see what they got on display in here!” His alpha waved at him cheerfully, beckoning him closer. “Get a load of this robe! That’s gotta be worth more than our truck!” 

Forgetting himself for only a moment, Hanzo pressed his hands against the glass. …It was their family’s ceremonial kimono. And it _was_ more expensive than the truck. More expensive than their little home in Santa Fe and everything inside of it. After all, that kimono had been worn since the era of the samurai, passed down through hundreds of years and countless generations.

The memories came flooding back. His ascension ceremony, the weight of that kimono over his shoulders. The swell of excitement in his chest, hearing his name called by his great-uncle, as the elders bowed to him in unison: _Shimada Hanzo_ , fifteenth kumichō of the Shimada-gumi. …Successor of his own younger brother, cut down in cold blood. 

Even decades later, Hanzo remembered that day with perfect memory: as he had sat on his throne, he had noticed a tiny spot of Genji’s blood that still remained, caked beneath his fingernails. Somehow, despite the fact that he’d scrubbed his hands raw, he’d missed it – as if the gods themselves disapproved of his ascension.

And yet, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty and sadness - what Hanzo had felt, above all else, was _pride_. A reminder of his own wickedness and unquenchable ambition. 

Staring up at that kimono, a flash of nostalgia sparked brightly within him, rekindling, for just a moment, his hopes and dreams, his jealousy and bitterness. In soft, subtle whispers, his earthly desires beckoned to him, daring to sow the seeds of discontent deep within him once again.

Though Hanzo hadn’t noticed, the blood had drained from his face, leaving him pale and trembling from the cold. Picking up on his mate’s distress, Jesse quickly led him back outside, to rest in the warmth of the surrounding sunlight. Though decades had passed since their courtship, his alpha’s behavior hadn’t changed; he was as chivalrous as always, caring for his mate as though even a slightest breeze could shatter him. 

Jesse pulled out a bottle of iced, green tea and cracked it open, handing it to him. 

“You feelin’ okay, Sunshine?” he asked, stroking his hand through his snow-white hair, draped loosely over his shoulders. Unprompted, as Hanzo sipped at the tea, his alpha reached into his pouch and quickly assembled his folding parasol, made of delicate lace that matched his collar. “Is the heat gettin’ to you? Or… is it somethin’ else?”

Of course it was something else.

Hanzo turned to his mate, intent on requesting a moment alone to lose himself in the fog of his nostalgia… when the _thwack_ of an arrow slamming against wood quickly tugged him back into reality. He shifted his gaze to the archery range – and saw the very image of himself as a young man. 

…Or rather, the man that he had always wanted to be. A good man. A _better_ man.

A man with hopes and dreams of his own – and, this time, with the means to weave them into reality. The strength to walk in the sun with his head held high, perhaps not always fearlessly, but with the support and the courage to persevere _in spite_ of that fear. In spite of doubt and creeping uncertainty. A man who remembered what was important in life – and who could never be swayed by something as petty as the promise of power or popularity.

The young alpha stood tall, his muscles, pulled taut beneath his fresh tattoo, cutting a fierce, powerful image against the gentle fall of sakura blossoms.

He drew another arrow and splintered the first, right through the center. 

Hanzo’s pulse thundered between his ears, reminding him of combat. 

The rush of adrenaline, leaping across the rooftops of Hanamura with his brother in tow, the rhythmic fall of his footsteps and the wind in his hair -

He hadn’t run like that in over twenty years… though Hanzo wondered if that wasn’t the point of parenthood, entirely. Though he would never be able to revisit the memories of his youth, he had given his son the ability to remake them anew, in his own image, with his own perspective. Similar, but not quite the same.

They didn’t always agree with each other, after all; Hanzo was always so much more cynical than his son. …But somehow, he knew that Clark understood him in a way that even Jesse didn’t. 

In a way that Genji would never know. 

His son was the one that he loved most in his life. He wanted Clark to claim his own brand of happiness. To define it for himself, uninfluenced by any other person – even his mother. He wanted his son to pursue those dreams relentlessly. To never give up. To never feel as though he had to settle for something less.

…And to someday know a love as pure and selfless as the one that Hanzo held for him. 

He relaxed his posture, leaning against his alpha’s shoulder and watching his son demolish another target. Clark turned back with a wink, then, aimed towards the little group of women who had gathered behind him, cheering him on.

Mistaking his comfortable silence for dissatisfaction, Jesse wrapped his arm around his omega’s shoulder, eager to soothe him. “This can’t be easy. Comin’ back home to everything you left behind: your old life, old ghosts… It’s okay if you need a minute.”

Hanzo reached for Jesse’s hand, then, smiling up at him with confidence - and all the love in the world. 

“No,” he replied, weaving their fingers together, “I think that I will be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading; I know it's been quite the ride! 
> 
> This story was certainly difficult to write at times, but I truly enjoyed the opportunity to create this for you. I actually feel rather satisfied with how it ended, and I hope that you do, too!
> 
> Please let me know what you think about this chapter, the story in general, or even any future stories that you'd like for me to write. I am always open to suggestions, and I always love to talk with you! 
> 
> Anyways, thank you again. It has truly been a pleasure!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Winning the Omega, The Heat and What Happened Afterwards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347398) by [jarethsdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon)




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